
Book— T iJ v.g . 

I 3 X>9 



-A 



I 

THE 



Sonttta of IKfitorg; 

OH, ^"j 

PICTURES OF VIRTUE AND VICE: 



5 



DRAWN FROM EXAMPLES OF 

MEN EMINENT FOR THEIR VIRTUES, 

OR 

INFAMOUS FOR THEIR VICES. 

Selected for the Instruction and Entertainment ofYoutfi. 

« 

BY THE LATE 

WILLIAM DODD, LL.D. 

THE EIGHTH EDITION. 



f\ Ornamented with EtehJ Engravings, "beautifully- cut on Wood. 



I 




LatfDoV 



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Printed by Anne Maurice, Fenehufch Street* 



PREFACE. 



Education is universally admitted to be 
the most important duty that a parent 
owes to his children; and to instil the 
principles, and enforce the practice, of vir- 
tue, ought to be his first and constant care; 
for it is not only a duty which he owes to 
them, but is also due to society, of which 
they are in time to become efficient mem- 
bers. 

Living examples from parents themselves 
are far superior to all precept or written 
instruction. But to strengthen the effects 
of these, or to supply their place, if unhap- 
pily wanting, historical examples are well 
calculated to make a lively impression 
upon young minds. First impressions 
being always the most durable, particular 
care should be taken that those examples 
represent virtue and goodness in their na- 
tive loveliness, and vice and depravity in 



It PREFACE. 

their natural deformity. This will incline 
the youthful mind to aim at imitating the 
examples of the good : for what they love 
and admire, they will naturally wish to 
imitate ; but they will avoid the examples 
of those who, by their vices and depravity, 
have made themselves hated by posterity. 

Let the parent or tutor carry the youth 
back into other countries and times, and 
teach him to oppose the opinions and exam- 
ples of those who are truly called ihegreat, 
to the false principles and evil examples 
which, in the present age, are calculated 
to mislead and pervert the human mind. 
It will be often found, that a lecture from 
a Scipio or a Cyrus, concealed or disguised 
under the name of a story, will make a 
deeper impression upon young persons, 
than formal lessons enforced with the most 
studied gravity. These, being thrown in 
their way, as it were by chance, and for 
their gratification, meet a grateful recep- 
tion, where the least appearance of de- 
signed instruction would frustrate the in- 
tention. 



PREFACE. 



Opposed to modern vices and preju- 
dices, let the youth hear of Dictators and 
Consuls taken from the plough, whose 
hands, grown hard by labour in the field, 
supported the tottering State, and saved 
the Commonwealth. So far from being 
desirous of amassing riches, let them be 
told, those men refused the gold which was 
offered them, and at their deaths did not 
leave enough to carry them to their graves. 

Let them hear that the venerable pa- 
triot Fabricius, who was honoured with 
many triumphs for the services he had 
done his country, retired to his chimney- 
corner, and nurtured the decay of life with 
the vegetables which his own haftds had 
planted and gathered : and that Augustus, 
who raised the Roman State to a higher 
pitch of glory than ever it was at before, 
who found Rome a city of brick, and left 
it a city of marble, was remarkably simple 
in his manner of living ; that his palaces 
were plain, his furniture homely ; that he 
slept in the same apartment during a reign 
of forty-years, and seldom wore any 



VI PREFACE. 

clothes but what were spun for him by the 
Empress Livia, or his sister Octavia. 

Seneca says " it is a great pleasure to me 
to compare the manners of Scipio with 
ours. That great man, the terror of Car- 
thage, and honour of Rome, turned hus- 
bandman, and contented himself in a poor 
cottage. But who now could satisfy him- 
self to live as he did?" And again, "Is it 
not glorious to behold a man who has 
passed through the command of armies, 
the government of provinces, the honours 
of a triumph, and the most dignified offices 
of magistracy in Rome; to see, I say, this 
man, (Cato,) mounted on a horse with his 
baggage fastened behind him, and without 
attendants !" 

What youth can forbear reflection, when 
we relate to him the admirable remark of 
Scipio to Massinissa, "that chastity was 
the virtue he most valued himself upon: 
that youth have less to fear from an army 
of enemies, than from the alluring plea- 
sures which on all sides surround them; 
and that whoever was able to govern his 



PREFACE. Vll 

passions, and subject them 'to reason, had 
gained a more glorious victory than he 
himself had just then obtained over Sy- 
phax V 3 This was a lecture founded on an 
example which he had some years before 
exhibited in his own person, when (as the 
reader will find recorded in the following 
pages) he restored a captive princess un- 
sullied to her betrothed lover; an exam- 
ple the more extraordinary in a conqueror, 
young and unmarried. By this genero- 
sity Scipio secured the affections of all the 
people of Spain, who viewed him as a deity 
from heaven in human shape, conquering 
all opposition more by his virtues than by 
his arms : and, to record their veneration, 
they caused the action to be engraved on 
a silver shield, which they presented to 
Scipio. 

Such are the examples by which young 
people are best taught their duty, from 
which they easiest acquire a relish for vir- 
tue, and learn most truly to estimate real 
merit under every form. Hence they are 
led to pass a right judgment on men and 



Vlll PREFACE. 

things; not from outward appearances, 
but from what they really are : to over- 
come popular prejudices, imbided perhaps 
from the nurse; to prefer doing private 
acts of bounty and liberality, which the 
heart only witnesses, to such as more os- 
tentatiously strike the eyes, and force, as 
it were, public admiration and applause. 

As the conversation of men of sound mo- 
rals, and amiable demeanour, contributes 
most of any thing to inspire sentiments of 
virtue, and to restrain from vice ; so the 
reading of examples, such as form the pre- 
sent Collection, from authors of undoubted 
veracity, forms the same kind of relation 
between us and the greatest men of anti- 
quity. We thus converse, travel, and live 
with them; hear their discourse, and be- 
come witnesses of their actions ; enter in- 
sensibly into their principles and opinions ; 
and finally derive from them a portion of 
that greatness of soul, that disinterested- 
ness, that hatred of injustice, and that 
love for the public good, which so bright- 
ens and adorns every page of their histories. 



PREFACE. IX 

There is, after all, one caution to be ob- 
served, viz. that we do not go too largely 
into moral reflections. Precepts short, 
lively, and pointed, soonest enter, and re- 
main longest impressed on the understand- 
ing. As a small seed, cast into a well-pre- 
pared soil, unfolds by degrees, and at 
last shoots into an hundred-fold increase; 
so, if these moral precepts do not some- 
times exceed a word, a short reflection, a 
maxim, or a proverb, it will produce its 
effect in due time, though, for the moment, 
it seems lost and gone. 

The greater part of this work was se- 
lected by the late D?\ Dodd, to illustrate 
and exemplify his Sermons to Young Men; 
a work highly necessary for every youth 
to peruse, and which none can peruse with 
indifference. The Sermons are intended 
for those who have arrived at maturity in 
judgment: the following work chiefly for 
youth of more tender years; as a cheap, 
and, the Editor hopes, a useful present, 
from which they may derive equal enter- 
tainment and improvement. 

a2 



X PREFACE. 

The additional Examples are very nu- 
merous, and will perhaps be found to fur- 
nish an agreeable variety to the mental 
repast. 

The "Anecdotes of distinguished Per- 
sons/ 5 published (though anonymously) 
by the late William Seward, Esq. has 
furnished some very valuable historical ad- 
denda, relating to more modern times ; 
and from many other sources of undisputed 
purity and veracity, the Editor has drawn 
materials for rendering still more deserv- 
ing of universal approbation and general 
reception, a Collection of Historical 
Beauties, which had in its original state 
acquired the favour of the critic,* the ap- 
plause ofthe parent and tutor, and the pa- 
tronage of the public at large ; ascertained 
in the most decisive manner by an unex- 
ampled sale. 

It was originally the intention of the 
Editor to increase more considerably the 
number of heads or subjects; but, on de- 

* See the Reviews. 



PREFACE. XI 

liberation, this was found unnecessary , as 
under every specific virtue was exposed 
examples of the contrary vice ; and under 
every vice, its opposite virtue was dis- 
played, For instance, under the article 
Intemperance, while we expose the hate- 
ful aspect of that sordid excess, we admi- 
nister the amiable antidote in examples of 
Prudence and Temperance; and so of 
the rest. 

On the whole, the book is now submit- 
ted with great deference to the Public : 
and the Editor cannot forbear to hope that 
his labours will tend to the advancement 
of the great interests of Morality and Re- 
ligion, while they assume the pleasing- 
garb of Amusement and DelyrfQ 



STEPHEN JONES, 



CONTENTS. 



Youthful Excess. Pase 1. 



i 



The Hermit — Cresippus — George Neville — Cyrus — 
Asotus — Villiers, Duke of Buckingham — Henry the 
Fifth — Polemo and Xenocrates. 

Filial Love. Page 9. 

Naomi and Ruth — Cyrus — Cymon — Alexander the 
Great — Algerine Captive — Prince Henry — Boleslaus, 
King of Poland — Cicero and Quintus — Emperor of 
China — Sir Thomas More — Anapias and Amphino- 
raus — A Daughter who sustained the Life of her im- 
prisoned Mother by the Milk of her own Breasts — 
Epaminondas — Octavius and Metellus — Darius and 
the Scythians — Decimus and Decius — Lamprocles 
and Socrates. 

Fraternal Love. Page 20. 

Joseph and his Brethren — Cato — Scyluius and his 
Sons — The French Water-Bearer — Bishop Hall — 
The Portuguese Brothers shipwrecked — Titus and 
Domitian — Scipio Asiaticus — Henry, King of Arra- 
gon— Timoleon — Chserephon and Chserecartes. 



t 



CONTENTS. » 

Early Application to Wisdom. Page 33. 



f 

Antisthenes — Count Oxenstiern— Roman Temple of 
Honour-Seneca — Alexander the Great — The Spar- 
tan s— Agesilaus — Simonides — Pope Adrian IV.— 
Earl o™orset — Tasso — Sir Thomas Smith — Sir John 
^jjje Mason. 



Advice to Apprentices. Page 41. 

:S,p\pn — Amasis, King of Egypt — Turkish Custom- — 
Telemachus — Cato — The Beggar of Bruges— Solo- 
.— ^cepio Mici thus— The Conscious Judge — 
the Younger — Perrin and Lucetta. 

m On Bad Company. Page 56. 




-ffrir 



The Eastern Sage — Pfrince Eugene — Sir Matthew Hale 
— Earl of Rochester — Marcus — Eusebius — Mr. Nel- 
*son. v% 

f 

On Bad /B^>oks. Page 65. 

The Earl of Rochester — Lucretius — Mr. Boyle and 
Hobbes the Atheist— The Lacedemonians — -The Earl 
of Rochester — Dr. Young— Duke of Montaugier and 
Louis XIV. of France. 

Conversation. Page 72. 

M. Varillas— St. Bernard— The Persian 
SoH ^-Cicero — Epictetus's Rule for Conversing— 
EuselSfc— Neander— Marshal Turenne — Sir Richard 




CONTENTS. 1LV 

Steele — Zeno, the Philosopher-Lord Bacon's Mode 
of regulating Conversation. 

Duelling. Page 82. 

Eugenio — The Marquis de Renty — Sir Walter Raleigh 
— Turkish Sentiments on Duelling — PhilAof Mace- 
don's Decree against two Duellists — iW Country 
Gentleman — Remarkable Challenge recorded by 
Csesar — Viscount de Turenne — Coesar and Anthony 
— Humorous Anecdote of General Guise. 

Ox Envy. Page 92. 

Plutarch's Comparison of Envious Persons — Mutius — 
Dionysius — Tiberius Csesar — Maximianus the Tyrant 
— Narses — Alexander the Great — Richard the First 
of England, and Philip of France — Aristides and the 
Peasant. 

Employment of Time. Page 98. 

Seneca — Vespasian — The Younger Scipio — Alfred the 
Great — Queen Elizabeth — Gassendi — Socrates — Se- 
neca — Augustus Caesar — The Gymnosophist — The 
Futility of certain Methods of employing Time beau- 
tifully delineated. 

Friendship. Page 105. 

Heroic Action of Hubert de St. Clare — Extraordinary 
Instance of Friendship recorded by M. Sedaine — 
Areteeus — David and Jonathan — Bishop of Cloyne — 
The Flanders Soldier and the Prince of !$J£$aco — 
Psammenitus, King of Egypt — Dean Swift — Scipio 



XVI CONTENTS. 

and Leelius — The late Prince of Wales and Mr. 
Glover — Marcus Varro and Calenus — -Lucillus and 
Brutus— Damon and Pythias — Cardinal d'Amboise 
■ — King; William and the Earl of Godolphin— Lord 
Baltimore and his School-fellow — Lord Stanhope. 

Gaming. Page 119. 

The Man of Pleasure — Mr. Locke— Lucius and Sap- 
phira — The Female Gamester — Colonel Daniel — Ly- 
sander and Aspasia. 

Humanity. Page 131. 

The Senators of the Areopagus — Marcus Antonius 
the Philosopher— Alphonsus, King of Naples — Au- 
gustus Csesar — Julius C-aesar — King Alfred the Great 
and the Beggar— Louis the Ninth of France — 
Henrietta Maria, Queen of Charles the First— Sir 
Philip Sydney — Richard Cromwell — King George 
the Second — Queen Caroline — The Duke de Mont- 
morenci — Beau Nash— The late King of Prussia. 

x Industry. Page 142. 

Horace — MenodemesandAsclepiades — Spinola — Mon- 
tesquieu—Charles the Twelth of Sweden — A Pri- 
soner in the Bastile— Sir William Temple — The Phi- 
losopher's Reason why we should love Labour — De- 
mosthenes the Orator — Varia Servilius- — The Chi- 
nese Merchant — The Gentleman and the Farmer- — 
Lope de Vega — Gassendi — Queen Mary — Dr. 
Johnson. 



CONTENTS. XVII 

Ingratitude. Page 153. 

Popilius Lena — Alexander the Great — Philip, King of 
Macedon — Keebie, Lord Mayor of London in 1511 
— Belisarius — Topal Osman, the Generous Turk, 
and Vincent ArnaudThe English Soldier. 

Impurity. Page 164. 

Augustus Coesar, and Athenodorus the Philosopher — 
The Italian Nobleman — Joseph in Egypt — Chevalier 
Bayard — Singular Example recorded in the Guardian. 

Intemperance. Page 172, 

Chremes and Esculapius — Lewis Cornaro — Diogenes — 
Solomon— Mr. Prior— Charles the Twelfth of Swe- 
den — Sully. 

Justice. Page 184. 

Mahomet, Emperor of the Turks — Diodes — Judge 
Hale — Sir Thomas More — Oliver Cromwell and the 
Quaker — Zaleucus — Alexander Severus — Themis- 
tocles and Aristides — Philip, King of Macedon — 
Cambyses, King of Persia — The Roman Soldier — 
Rhynsault and Sapphira. 

Lying. Page 197. 

Augustus Coesar — Epaminondas — Cato the Younger — 
The Athenian Philosopher, Zenocrates — The Galley 



XVU1 CONTENTS. 

Slave*— Lord Herbert — Petrarch — Lord Somers and 
the pretended Poet — Homer — Aristotle — Apollonius 
— Sir Thomas Brown — Dr. Hawkesworth — The Mi- 
series of Mendaculus. 

Passion. Page 204. 

Athenodorus — Socrates — Julius Csesar — Cotys, King 
of Thrace — Antigonus, King of Syria — The Farmer 
and his Dog— Field-Marshal Turenne — Alexander 
andClytus — Herod of Judea — Louis XII. — Catherine 
de Medicis — The great Duke of Marlborough — The 
Rider not always wiser than his Horse. 

Pleasure. Page 210. 

Portrait of Pleasure — The Choice of Hercules — Apicius 
— General Paoli — The Boy and the Butterfly. 

Pride. Page 217. 

Sethos, King of Egypt — Pharaoh Ophra — Alexander 
the Great — Menecrates the Physician — Empedocles 
the Philosopher — Cyrus — Caligula — Domitian— He- 
liogabulus — Commodus — Dioclesian — CuriusDenta- 
tus — Pompey — Pompey the Great — Poppoea Sabina, 
Wife of Nero — Xerxes — The Cham of Tartary — 
The Spanish Mendicant— John O'Neal — Pope Hil- 
debrand — Xerxes — Attila, King of the Huns — Cle- 
opes, King of Egypt— Croesus and Solon — Alcibiades 
and Socrates. 



CONTENTS. XIX 

Religion. Page 226. 

Protagoras the Sceptic — Mr. Boyle and Hobbes the 
Atheist — Cyras — Agesilaus — Alexander the Great — 
Gustavus Adolphus, of Sweden — St. John and the 
Robber — The Emperor Constantius — Theodoric, 
King of the Goths — Dr. Boerhaave — The Emperor 
Charles the Fifth — Mr. Locke — Mr. Addison — Louis 
the Fourteenth of France — Cardinal Wolsey — Vol- 
taire — Lord Peterborough — Sir William Waller — 
Edmund Waller and the Duke of Buckingham. 

Ridicule. Page 239. 

He who thinks he shall die like a Dog, deserves to live 
like one — The Lord Chancellor Clarendon — The 
Earl of Chesterfield and Voltaire — Sully at the Court 
of Louis the Fourteenth — The Duchess of Burgundy 
and Louis the Fourteenth — Sir Isaac Newton and 
the pert Youth. 

Revenge. Page 245. 

The Emperor Frederic — The Slave and his Master — 
The Italian's Revenge— The Adulterer — Cicero — 
Viliiers, Duke of Buckingham — Tamas Schaw, the 
Persian Sovereign — The Sacrifice of Gualbertes — 
The General and the Soldier — Pericles — Amilcar — 
Aliveri, the Persian General — Demetrius Poliorcetes 
— Louis the Twelfth of France. 



^i 



XX CONTENTS. 

Virtue. Page 256. 

Cato the Elder — Psedaretus of Lacedemon— The Spar- 
tan Mother — Mutius and Porsena — Pomponius and 
Mithridates— The Chinese Patriot — The Chinese 
Mother — Godiva, Duchess of Mercia — Infant Hero- 
ism — Julius Drusus — V T alerianus — The Modesty of 
Plato — The young Philosopher — Phocion — Godrus, 
King of Athens, devotes his Life to save his Country 
— The Heroic Patriotism of Curtius — Cimon, the 
Athenian General — iEneas and Anchises — Manlius, 
the Roman Dictator — Antigonus — Herod — Amanda 
— Emperor of China — The imprisoned Merchant — 
The contented Cottager — Louis the Twelfth of 
France — The Duke of Montausier — Judge Jeffries — 
King Lemuel — Joseph in Egypt — Lady Fanshawe's 
Instructions to her Son — The Power of Virtue beauti- 
fully exemplified in the Book of Job. 



BEAUTIES OF HISTORY. 




XeDocrates the Philosopher, reproving Polemo for his excesses. 

YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 

SENTIMENTS. 






And not many days after, the younger son gathered 
all together, and took his journey into afar coun- 
try, and there wasted his substance with riotous 
living. 

The parable of the prodigal is no less beautiful 
and pathetic, than it is instructive and consolatory. 
It sets before us, in the most striking view, 
the progress and the fatal consequences of vice, 
on the one hand ; and on the other, the paternal 
readiness of our Almighty Father to receive the 
returning penitent to pardon and mercy. It is pe- 



i 



Cry 






I YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 

culiarly instructive to youth ; and would become 
very instrumental to preserve them from the per- 
nicious allurements of sin and folly, if they would 
seriously reflect upon it ; if they would contem- 
plate, in the example of the prodigal before them, 
the nature and the effects of those vices which 
brought him to extreme distress, and which will 
ever bring to distress all those who indulge them. 
And as there can be no question that the indul- 
gence of these vices tends td misery, sorrow, and 
ruin, more or less conformable to that of the young 
man's in the parable ; so can there, on the other 
hand, be no doubt but the avoiding of these vices, 
and the cultivation of the contrary virtues, will, by 
the grace of God, produce present peace and future 
happiness. 

EXAMPLES. 

A dissipated young fellow seeing an aged her- 
mit go by him barefoot, " Father," said he, " you 
are in a very miserable condition, if there is not 
another world/' " True, son," replied the hermit ; 
" but what is thy condition if there is ?" 

Cresippus, the son of Chabrias, a noble Athe- 
nian, was so profusely expensive, that after he had 
lavishly consumed all his goods and other estates, 
he put to sale even the very stones of his father's 
tomb, in the building whereof the Athenians had 
expended a thousand drachmas. 

George Neville, brother to the great Earl of 
Warwick, at his instalment into the archbishop- 
rick of York, made a prodigious feast to all the no- 
bility, most of the principal clergy, and many of 
the great commoners ; the catalogue of which 
alone, as given by different writers, is sufficient to 
excite satiety and disgust. To prepare and attend 



YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 3 

this feast, there were one thousand servitors, sixty- 
two cooks, and five hundred and fifteen menial 
apparitors in the kitchen. But, seven years after, 
fortune shifted the scene ; for the king, seizing on 
all his estate, sent him prisoner to Calais, where 
he was kept bound in the most extreme poverty ; 
justice thus punishing his former prodigality. 

When Cyrus had received an account that the 
Lydians had revolted from him, he told Croesus, 
with a great deal of emotion, that he had almost 
determined to make them all slaves. Croesus in- 
treated him to pardon them : " But," added he, 
" that they may no more rebel, or be troublesome 
to you, command them to lay aside their arms, 
and wear long vests and buskins ; (that is, to vie 
with each other in the luxurious elegance and 
richness of their dress ;) order them to sing, and 
play upon the harp ; let them drink and debauch 
with impunity ; and you will soon see their spirits 
broken, and themselves changed from men to 
women, so that they will no more rebel, or give 
you any uneasiness." The event effectually an- 
swered the intention. 

How wretched is the condition of Asotus ! A 
little garret, with bare walls, is his sole apartment ; 
and of this, a flock bed, covered with rags, takes 
up two-thirds. Cold, nakedness, and shame, com- 
pel him to lie on that bed till the day is far spent. 
At night, a lamp, suited to the place, a true sepul- 
chral lamp, rather adds horror than diffuses light. 
By the feeble glimmering of this languid flame, 
he eats a dry crust of brown bread, his whole re- 
past ! Yet, poor as it is, he is not sure that he shall 
be able to renew even this to-morrow ; for he can- 
not dig, and to beg he is ashamed ! What now is 
become of his countless treasures, his immense re- 
venues, which appeared sufficient to maintain a 



4 YOUTHFUL EXCESS* 

province ? As well may it be asked what becomes 
of water poured into a sieve, or of wax thrown 
into a furnace. Luxurious entertainments, gaming, 
women, usurers, and his steward, were the 
bottomless gulphs which swallowed up his opu- 
lence. But, is there not one among all his friends 
who knows him in his adversity, and stretches out 
the hand of bounty for his relief? Is there not 
one among all his friends ? Alas ! had he ever a 
friend ? If he had, he would have him still ; for, 
whatever may have been said, " Adversity never 
banished a friend :" it only disperses those who 
unjustly arrogate the name ; and if adversity be 
productive of any good, (which cannot be denied,) 
this is one of its principal advantages ; for the loss 
of a false friend is a real gain. If Asotus has any 
cause of complaint, it is only of the want of wis- 
dom, and of never having had a friend that was 
sincere. 

The above fancy-portrait is by no means desti- 
tute of originals in real life. We have a remark- 
able instance in George Villiers, created by James I. 
Earl, Marquis, and afterwards Duke of Buck- 
ingham, and invested with many high and lucra- 
tive offices. He is described to have been a gay 
capricious nobleman, of some wit, and great viva- 
city ; the minister of riot, and counsellor of infa- 
mous practices ; the slave of intemperance, a pre- 
tended atheist, without honour or principle, eco- 
nomy or discretion ; and who, after various mal- 
proceedings and vicissitudes of fortune, after a 
justly-merited disgrace from the very court which 
fostered him, and an imprisonment in the Tower 
for some time ; at last, in the reign of Charles II. 
deserted by all his friends, and despised by all the 
world, died in the greatest want and obscurity. 
Mr. Pope has so beautifully painted these circum- 



YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 5 

stances in his epistle " On the Use of Riches/' 
that we presume they will not be thought ill ap- 
plied in furtherance of our general plan. 

" In the worst inn's worst room .with mat half hung, 
The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung ; 
On once afock-bed, but repaired with straw, 
With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, 
The George and Garter dangling from that bed, 
Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, 
Great Villiers lies : alas! how changed from him, 
That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim ! 
Gallant and gay, in Cliffden's proud alcove, 
The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love ; 
Or, just as gay at council, in a ring 
Of mimic statesmen and their merry king. 
No wit to fatter left of all his store ; 
Is o fool to laugh at, which he valued more ! 
There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends, 
And fame, this lord of useless thousands ends''' 

Henry the Fifth, king of England, while prince 
of Wales, by his loose and dissolute conduct, daily 
gave his father great cause of pain and anxiety. 
His court was the common receptacle of libertines, 
debauchees, buffoons, parasites, and all that spe- 
cies of vermin which are at once the disgrace and 
ruin of young princes. The wild and riotous ex- 
ploits of the prince and his companions were the 
general topics of conversation, and furnished mat- 
ter of equal astonishment and detestation. This 
sad degeneracy in the heir of his crown was not 
more disagreeable to the king himself, who loved 
him with the most tender affection, than it was 
alarming to the nation in general, who trembled 
at the prospect of being one day governed by a 
prince of his flagitious character. But their fears, 



6 YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 

to the universal admiration of all, were happily 
removed ; for no sooner had the young king as- 
sumed the reins of government, than he shewed 
himself to be extremely worthy of the high station 
to which he was advanced. He called together 
the dissolute companions of his youth, acquainted 
them with his intended reformation, advised them 
to imitate his good example ; and, after having 
forbidden them to appear in his presence again if 
they continued in their former courses, he dismis- 
sed them with liberal presents. He next chose a 
new council, composed of the wisest and the best 
men in the kingdom : he reformed the courts of 
law, by discarding ignorant and corrupt judges, 
and supplying their places with persons of cou- 
rage, knowledge, and integrity. Even the chief 
justice, Gascoign, who had committed young 
Henry to prison for a former misdemeanor, and 
who, on that account, trembled to approach the 
royal presence, was received with the utmost cor- 
diality and friendship; and, instead of being re- 
proved for his past conduct, was warmly exhorted 
to persevere in the same strict and impartial exe- 
cution of the laws. In a word, he seemed deter- 
mined to become a new man, to bury all his juve- 
nile excesses in utter oblivion, and to prove him- 
self the common father and benefactor of all his 
subjects. Even before his royal predecessor's 
death, he appears to have been sensible of the folly 
and impropriety of his conduct, and resolutely 
bent to reform ; for his father, being naturally of 
a jealous and suspicious disposition, listened at 
times to the suggestions of some of his courtiers, 
who meanly insinuated, that his son had some evil 
design upon his crown and authority. These in- 
sinuations filled him with the most anxious fears 
and apprehensions ; and he might perhaps have 



YOUTHFUL EXCESS. / 

had recourse to very disagreeable expedients, to 
prevent the imaginary danger, had not his suspi- 
cions been timely removed by the prudent and ex- 
emplary conduct of the young prince ; for, no 
sooner was he informed of his father's jealousy, 
than he repaired to court, and throwing himself 
with all humility and much emotion on his knees, 
accosted the king in these memorable words : " I 
understand, my liege, that you suspect me of en- 
tertaining designs against your crown and person. 
I own I have been guilty of many excesses, which 
have justly exposed me to your displeasure ; but I 
take Heaven to witness, that I never harboured a 
single thought inconsistent with that duty and ve- 
neration which I owe to your majesty. Those 
who charge me with such criminal intentions, only 
want to disturb the tranquillity of your reign, and 
basely to alienate your affections from your son 
and successor. I have therefore taken the liberty 
to come into your presence, and humbly beg you 
will cause my conduct to be examined with as 
much rigour and strictness as that of the meanest 
of your subjects; and if I be found guilty, I will 
cheerfully submit to any punishment you shall think 
fit to inflict." The king was so satisfied with this 
prudent and ingenuous address, that he embraced 
him with great tenderness, acknowledging that his 
suspicions were entirely removed, and that for the 
future he would never entertain a thought to the 
prejudice of his loyalty and honour. 

Polemo, an Athenian youth, was of so wretched 
and depraved a cast, that he not only delighted in 
vice, but gloried in the infamy of it. Returning 
from a debauch one morning after sunrise, and 
seeing the gate of Xenocrates the philosopher 
open, filled with wine as he was, besmeared with 
ointments, a garland on his head, and clad in a 



8 YOUTHFUL EXCESS. 

loose and transparent robe, he entered the school, 
which at that early hour was thronged with a num- 
ber of grave and learned men ; and, not content 
with so indecent an entrance, he sat down among 
them, on purpose to affront their eloquence and 
sobriety, and oppose their prudent precepts by his 
drunken follies. His coming had occasioned all 
who were present to be angry : only Xenocrates 
himself was unmoved ; and retaining the same 
gravity of countenance, and dismissing his present 
theme of discourse, he began a disquisition on 
modesty and temperance, which he represented in 
such lively colours before the young libertine, that 
Polemo, being much affected, first laid aside the 
crown from his head, then drew his arm within 
his cloak, changed the festival merriment that ap- 
peared in his face to seriousness and anxiety, and 
at last, through the whole course of his life, cast 
off all his luxury and intemperance. Thus, by a 
single, judicious, and well-adapted oration, the 
young man received so complete a cure, that, from 
being one of the most licentious of his time, he 
became one of the greatest philosophers and best 
men in Athens. 



FILIAL LOVE. 

SENTIMENTS. 

M He that curseth his father, or his mother, shall 
surely be put to death /" In agreement wherewith, 
the wise man remarks, " the eye that mocketh at 
his father, and despiseth to obey his mother, the 
ravens of the valley shall pluck it out, and the 
young eagles shall eat it /" 

The ancient Romans, as well as some other peo- 
ple, gave parents the absolute right of life and 
death over their children : and the Chinese, at pre- 
sent, are remarkable for the reverence they exact 
from children to their parents. Their punishment 
of parricide, if such a thing ever happens, is the 
most exemplary and severe : the criminal in this 
case is cut into ten thousand pieces, which are 
afterwards burned ; his houses and lands are de- 
stroyed, and even the houses that stand near 
them, " to remain as monuments of so detested a 
crime ; or, rather, that all remembrance of so abo- 
minable a villany may be effaced from the earth." 
Let their commands be ever sacred in your ears, 
and implicitly obeyed, where they do not contra- 
dict the commands of God : pretend not to be wiser 
than they who have had so much more experience 
than yourselves ; and despise them not, if haply 
you should be so blest as to have gained a degree 
of knowledge or of fortune superior to them. Let 
your carriage towards them be always respectful, 
reverent, and submissive; let your words be always 



10 FILIAL LOVE. 

affectionate and humble ; and especially beware 
of pert and ill-seeming replies ; of angry, discon- 
tented, and peevish looks. Never imagine, if 
they thwart your wills, or oppose your inclina- 
tions, that this ariseth from any thing but love to 
you : solicitous as they have ever been for your 
welfare, always consider the same tender solici- 
tude as exerting itself, even in cases most oppo- 
site to your desires ; and let the remembrance of 
what they have done and suffered for you ever 
preserve you from acts of disobedience, and from 
paining those good hearts which have already felt 
so much for you, their children. 

Doubtless you have all too much ingenuousness 
of temper, to think of repaying the fears and 
bleeding anxieties they have experienced for your 
welfare by deeds of unkindness, which will pierce 
them to the soul; which will perhaps break the 
string of a heart, of which you, and you only, have 
long had the sole possession ! No, my young 
friends ; so far from this, you will think it the 
greatest happiness of your lives to follow our bles- 
sed Saviour's example, and to shew the most ten- 
der concern for your parents ; particularly if, like 
his, your's should happen to be a widowed parent ; 
a mother deprived of her chief happiness and stay, 
by the loss of a husband ; for which nothing can 
compensate, but the dutiful and affectionate beha- 
viour of her children ; who are bound, in that case, 
to manifest double kindness, and to alleviate, by 
all the tenderness and affection imaginable, the 
many difficulties and sorrows of widowhood. 

EXAMPLES. 

A beautiful illustration of this virtue will be 
found in the scriptural story of Naomi and Ruth, 



FILIAL LOVE. 11 

in the first chapter of Ruth, which is particularly 
recommended to the young reader's attention. 

"And Naonii said unto her two daughters-in- 
law, Go, return each to her mother's house : the 
Lord deal kindly with you, as ye have dealt with 
the dead, and with me. The Lord grant you that 
ye may find rest, each of you in the house of her 
husband. Then she kissed them ; and they lifted 
up th^voice and wept. And Orpah kissed her 
mother-in-law ; but Ruth clave unto her. And 
she said, Behold, thy sister-in-law is gone back 
unto her people, and unto her gods : return thou 
after thy sister-in-law. And Ruth said, Intreat 
me not to leave thee, or to return from following 
after thee ; for whither thou goest, I will go ; and 
where thou lodgest, I will lodge : thy people shall 
be my people, and thy God my God. Where 
thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried : 
the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but 
death part thee and me. When she saw that she 
w r as steadfastly minded to go with her, then she 
left speaking unto her, &c." 

Cyrus, king of Persia, having conquered Croe- 
sus, king of Lydia, in battle, the latter fled into 
Sardis : but Cyrus following, took the city by 
storm; and a soldier running after Croesus with a 
sword, young Crcesus, his son, who had been born 
dumb, and had so continued to that hour, from 
the mere impulse of natural affection, seeing his 
father in such imminent danger, suddenly cried 
out, €t O man, kill not Croesus !" and continued 
to enjoy the faculty of speech the rest of his life. 

Miltiades, a famous Athenian commander, died 
in prison, where he had been cast for debt. His 
son Cimon, to redeem his father's body for burial, 
voluntarily submitted himself a prisoner in his 



12 FILIAL LOVE. 

room, where he was kept in chains till the debt was 
paid. 

Olympias, the mother of Alexander the Great, 
was very morose and severe towards him; yet 
when Antipater, Alexander's deputy in Europe, 
wrote letters of great complaint against her to 
Alexander, the latter sent the following answer : 
" Knowest thou not, that one little tear of my 
mother's will blot out a thousand of thy l^ers of 
complaint ?" 

As some Christian captives at Algiers, who had 
been ransomed, were going to be discharged, the 
cruisers brought in a Swedish vessel, among the 
crew of which was the father of one of those ran- 
somed captives. The son made himself known to 
the old man; but their mutual unhappiness, at 
meeting in such a place, may well be conceived. 
The young man, however, considering that the 
slavery his father was about to undergo would ine- 
vitably put an end to his life, requested that he 
might be released, and himself detained in his 
room; which was immediately granted : but when 
the story was told to the governor, he was so af- 
fected with it, that he caused the son likewise to 
be discharged, as the reward of his filial and ex- 
emplary tenderness. 

One of the favourites of King Henry the Fifth, 
when Prince of Wales, having been indicted for 
some misdemeanor, was condemned, notwithstand- 
ing all the interest the prince could make in his 
favour : the latter was so incensed at the issue of 
his trial, as to strike the judge on the bench. This 
magistrate, whose name was Sir William Gas- 
coign, acted with a spirit becoming his character : 
he instantly ordered the prince to be committed 
to prison ; and young Henry, by this time sensible 



FILIAL LOVE. 13 

of the insult 1 I offered to the laws of his 

country, and tcfl s royal father, whose person was 
represented by the judge, suffered himself to be j 
quietly conducted to gaol by the officers of jus- 
tice. The king (Henry the Fourth) who was an 
excellent judge of mankind, w r as no sooner in- 
formed of this transaction, than he cried out in a 
transport of joy, " Happy is the king who has a 
magisjifcte possessed of courage to execute the 
laws ! B still more happy, in having a son who 
will submit to such chastisement !" 

Boleslaus the Fourth, king of Poland, had a 
picture of his father, which he carried about his 
neck, set in a plate of gold ; and when he was 
going to say or do any thing of importance, he 
took this pleasing monitor in his hand, and kiss- 
ing it, used to say, " My dear father, may I do 
nothing remissly, or unworthy of thy name !" 

Among the incredible number of persons who 
were proscribed, under the second triumvirate of 
Rome, were the celebrated orator Cicero, and his 
brother Quintus. When the news of the pro- 
scription was brought to them, they endeavoured 
to make their escape to Brutus, in Macedon. They 
travelled together for some time, mutually condo- 
ling their bad fortune : but, as their departure had 
been very precipitate, and they were not furnish- 
ed with money, and other necessaries for the voy- 
age, it was agreed that Cicero should make what 
haste he could to the sea-side, to secure their pas- 
sage, and that Quintus should return home to 
make more ample provision. But, as in most 
houses there are as manv informers as domestics, 
his return was immediately made known, and the 
house, in consequence, filled with soldiers and as- 
sassins. Quintus concealed himself so effectually, 
that the soldiers could not find him. Enraged at 



14 FIH 



AL LOVE, 



fc 



n 



their disappointment, they pu jj^on to the tor- 
ture, in order to make him disc fer the place of 
" is father's concealment: but filial affection was 
proof in this young Roman against the most ex- 
quisite torments. An involuntary sigh, and some- 
times a deep groan, was all that could be extorted 
from the generous youth. His agonies were in- 
creased ; but, with amazing fortitude, be alJU per- 
sisted in his resolution not to betray Uttather, 
Quintus was not far off; and it may betta| e ima- 
gined than it can be expressed, how the heart of 
a father must have been affected with the sighs 
and groans of a son expiring in torture to save his 
life. He could bear it no longer ; but, quitting 
the place of his concealment, he presented himself 
to the assassins, beseeching them, with a flood of 
tears, to put him to death, and dismiss the inno- 
cent child, whose generous behaviour the trium- 
virs themselves, if informed of the fact, would 
judge worthy of the highest approbation and re- 
ward. The inhuman monsters, however, unmoved 
by the tears of the father or the son, answered 
that they both must die ; the father because he 
w T as proscribed, and the son because he had con- 
cealed his father. Upon this a new contest of 
tenderness arose, who should die first ; which, 
however, the assassins soon decided, by beheading 
them both at the same time. 

The Emperor of China on certain days of the 
year pays a visit to his mother, who is seated on a 
throne to receive him ; and four times on his feet, 
and as often on his knees, he makes her a pro- 
found obeisance, bowing his head even to the 
ground. The same custom is also observed 
through the greatest part of the empire ; and if it 
appears that any one is negligent or deficient in 
his duty to his parents, he is liable to a complaint 



FILIAL LOVE. 15 

before the magistrates, who punish such offenders 
with much severity. This, however, is seldom 
the case ; ncyrcople, in general, expressing more 
filial respectKd duty than they. 

Sir Thomas More seems to have emulated this 
beautiful example ; for, being lord chancellor of 
England at the same time that his father was a 
judge of the King's Bench, he would always, on 
his enlfcing Westminster Hall, go first to the 
King's^Jench, and ask his father's blessing, before 
he went to sit in the Court of Chancery, as if to 
secure success in the great decisions of his high 
and important office. 

During an eruption of Mount JEtna, many years 
since, the danger it occasioned to the inhabitants 
of the adjacent country became very imminent, 
and the flames flying about, they were obliged to 
retire to a greater distance. Amidst the hurry and 
confusion of such a scene, (every one flying and 
carrying away whatever they deemed most pre- 
cious,) two sons, the one named Anapias, the other 
Amphinomous, in the height of their solicitude 
for the preservation of their wealth and goods, re- 
collected their father and mother, who, being both 
very old, were unable to save themselves by flight. 
Filial tenderness set aside every other considera- 
tion ; and " Where/' cried the generous youths, 
H shall we find a more precious treasure than 
those who begat and gave us being?" This said, 
the one took up his father on his shoulders, the 
other his mother, and so made their way through 
the surrounding smoke and flames. The fact 
struck all beholders with the highest admiration ; 
and they and their posterity ever after called 
the path they took in their retreat, " The Field 
of the Pious/' in memory of this pleasing inci- 
dent. 



16 FILIAL LOVE. 

A woman of distinction in Rome had been con- 
demned to a capital punishment. The proetor ac- 
cordingly delivered her up to th^lriumvir, who 
caused her to be carried to prison,™ order to be 
put to death. The gaoler, who had orders to exe- 
cute her, was moved with compassion, and could 
not resolve to kill her : he determined, therefore, 
to let her die of hunger : besides which, he suffered 
her daughter to see her in prison ; taking care 
however, to have her diligently examined^iest she 
might bring her sustenance. As this continued 
many days, he was surprised that the prisoner 
lived so long without eating ; and suspecting the 
daughter, he watched her, and discovered that 
(like the famous Xantippe, daughter of Cymon) 
she nourished her parent with the milk of her own 
breasts. Amazed at so pious, and at the same 
time so ingenious a device, he ventured to tell the 
fact to the triumvir, and the triumvir mentioned 
it to the prsetor, who thought the circumstance 
worthy of being related in the assembly of the 
people. The criminal was pardoned ; a decree 
passed, that the mother and daughter should be 
subsisted for the residue of their lives at the ex- 
pence of the public ; and, to crown the whole, that 
a temple " Sacred to Piety/' should be erected 
near the prison. 

Epaminondas, the Theban general, being asked 
what was the most pleasing event that had hap- 
pened to him in his whole life, cheerfully an- 
swered, " It was, that he had obtained his glo- 
rious victory over the Leuctrians, at a time when 
his father and mother were both living to enjoy 
the news." 

While Octavius was at Samos, after the famous 
battle of Actium, which made him master of the 
universe, he held a council, in order to examine 



FILIAL LOVE. 17 

the prisoners who had been engaged in Anthony's 
party. Among the rest was brought before him 
Metellus, oppressed with years and infirmities, 
disfigured by a long beard and dishevelled hair, 
but especially by his clothes, which, through his 
ill fortune, were become very ragged. The son of 
this Metellus sat as one of the judges ; and, at 
first, could not easily discriminate his father 
through his deplorable appearance : at length, 
however, after viewing him narrowly, having re- 
collected his features, instead of being ashamed to 
own him, he ran to embrace the old man, and cried 
bitterly. Then, returning toward the tribunal, 
" Csesar," said he, " my father has been your 
enemy, I your officer ; he deserves to be punished, 
and I to be rewarded. The favour I desire of you 
is, either to save him, on my account, or to order 
me to be put to death with him." All the judges 
were touched with commiseration at this affecting 
scene ; and Octavius himself, relenting, granted to 
old Metellus his life and liberty. 

Darius invaded Scythia with all the forces of 
his empire : the Scythians retreated, by little and 
little, till they came at length to the uttermost 
deserts of Asia. Here Darius sent his ambassador 
to them, to demand where it was that they pro- 
posed to conclude their retreat, and when they in- 
tended to begin righting. They returned him for 
answer, with the spirit so peculiar to that nation, 
" That they had no cities, nor cultivated fields, for 
the defence of which they should give him battle ; 
but, when he was come to the place of their 
father's sepulchral monuments, he should then 
understand in what manner the Scythians used to 
fight." So great a reverence had even that bar- 
barous nation for the ashes of their ancestors ! 

The Emperor Decimus, intending and desiring 



18 FILIAL LOVE. 

to place the crown on the head of Deems, his son, 
the young prince refused it in the most strenuous 
manner, saying, " I am afraid lest, being made an 
emperor, I should forget that I am a son. I had 
rather be no emperor and a dutiful son, than an 
emperor and such a son as hath forsaken his due 
obedience. Let then my father bear the rule ; and 
let this only be my empire- — to obey with all hu- 
mility, and to fulfil whatsoever he shall command 
me." Thus the solemnity was waved, and the 
young man was not crowned ; unless it be thought 
that this signal piety towards an indulgent parent 
was a more glorious diadem to the son than that 
which consisted merely of gold and jewels. 

Lamprocles, the eldest son of Socrates, fell into 
a violent passion with his mother. Socrates was a 
witness to this shameful behaviour, and attempted 
the correction of it in the following gentle and 
rational manner. "Come hither, son/' said he, 
" Have you never heard of men who are called 
ungrateful?" "Yes, frequently," answered the 
youth, u And what is ingratitude ?" demanded So- 
crates. ft It is to receive a kindness," said Lam- 
procles, " without making a proper return, when 
there is a favourable opportunity." " Ingratitude 
is a species of injustice, therefore," said Socrates. 
" I should think so," answered Lamprocles, " If 
then," pursued Socrates, " ingratitude be injus- 
tice, does it not follow that the degree of it must 
be proportionate to the magnitude of the favours 
which have been received ?" Lamprocles admit- 
ted the inference ; and Socrates thus pursued the 
interrogations. " Can there subsist higher obli- 
gations than those which children owe to their pa- 
rents, from whom life is derived, supported, and 
by whose good offices it is rendered honourable, 
useful, and happy V 9 " I acknowledge the truth 



FILIAL LOVE. 19 

of what you say," replied Lamprocles ; " but who 
could suffer without resentment, the ill humours 
of such a mother as I have ?" " What strange 
thing has she done to you?" said Socrates. u She 
has a tongue," replied Lamprocles, " that no 
mortal can bear." ■' How much more," said So- 
crates, " has she endured from your wrangling, 
fretfulness, and incessant cries in the period of 
infancy? What anxiety has she suffered from the 
levities, capriciousness, and follies of your child- 
hood and youth r What affliction has she felt, 
what toil and watching, has she sustained in your 
illness?" 



20 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 



SENTIMENTS. 

Behold how comely a thing it is for brethren to dioell 
together in unity. 

What inexpressible delight, when brothers and 
sisters of one family live together in all the har- 
mony of friendship and good esteem, mutually de- 
lighted and charmed with each other's presence 
and society ! Peace dwells in their bosom, and 
transport beats at their heart. They know how 
to alleviate each other's troubles and difficulties; 
they know how to impart and double each other's 
felicity and pleasure. And if, perchance, their 
aged parents live, who have formed them thus to 
love, whose early care provided for them this high 
feast of the most delicate sensations, what encrea- 
sing raptures do they feel from blessing those pa- 
rents with this fruit of their care ! O, ye happy 
parents ! if I could envy any beings upon earth, it 
were you, who see your youth renewed in good, 
and worthy children flourishing around you ; who 
see those children amply crowning your days and 
nights of past solicitude, not only with the most re- 
verential respect to yourselves, but with what you 
wish still more, if possible, with the firmest and 
most respectful love to each other; who see those 
children, with all the kindness of that love you 
sought to inspire, like olive branches, verdant 
around you, blessed in you, blessed in each other, 
blessed in themselves; the providence of God smi- 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 21 

ling upon them ; success and honour attending 
their steps. 

EXAMPLES. 

The scriptural examples of Joseph and his bre- 
thren we think it necessary to point out in Gene- 
sis, chap. 43, 44, 45, 46, and 47, and to remark, 
that this history is not exceeded in interesting 
passages by any other, sacred or profane. 

" A famine continuing sore in the land, Jacob 
said unto his sons, Go again, and buy us food ; 
and if it must be so, now take also your brother 
Benjamin, and arise and go unto the man. And 
they brought presents unto Joseph, and bowed 
themselves to him to the earth. And he asked 
them of their welfare ; and said, Is your father 
well? Is he alive? And he lifted up his eyes, and 
saw Benjamin his brother : and his bowels did 
yearn towards his brother; and he sought where 
to weep, and he entered his chamber, and wept 
there: and he washed his face, and went out, and 
refrained himself. Then he commanded the stew- 
ard of his house, saying, Fill the men's sacks with 
food as much as they can carry; and put my cup, 
the silver cup, into the sack of Benjamin the 
youngest. And the steward did according to the 
word that Joseph had spoken. As soon as the 
morning was light, the men were sent away, they 
and their asses. But Joseph commanded his stew- 
ard to follow them, and to search their sacks, and 
to bring them back. And when Judah and his bre- 
then were returned into the city, Joseph said unto 
them, What deed is this that ye have done? The 
man in whose hands the cup is found shall be my 
servant ; and as for you, get you in peace unto your 
father. But they said, Our father will surely die, 
if he seeth that the lad is not with us; and we 



22 FRATERNAL LOVE. 

shall bring down the grey hairs of thy servant, our 
father, with sorrow to the grave. Then Joseph 
could not refrain himself before all them that stood 
by him; and he cried, Cause every man to go 
out from me; and there stood no man with him, 
whilst Joseph made himself known unto his bre- 
thren. And he wept aloud, and said unto hisbre- 
then, I am Joseph: Doth my father yet live? And 
his brethen could not answer him, for they were 
troubled at his presence. And Joseph said unto 
his brethren, Come near to me, I pray you ; and 
they came near: and he said, I am Joseph your 
brother, whom ye sold into Egypt. Now, there- 
fore, be not grieved, nor angry with yourselves, 
that ye sold me hither: for God did send me be- 
fore you to save your lives by a great deliverance. 
Haste you, and go up to my father ; and say unto 
him, Thus saith thy son Joseph, God hath made me 
lord over all Egypt : come down unto me, tarry 
not. And thou shalt dw r ell in the land of Goshen ; 
and thou shall be near unto me, thou, and thy 
children, and thy children's children, and thy 
flocks, and thy herds, and all that thou hast; and 
there will I nourish thee, for yet there are five 
years of famine, lest thou, and thy household, and 
all that thou hast, come to poverty. And behold 
your eyes see, and the eyes of my brother Benja- 
min, that it is my mouth which speaketh unto you. 
And you shall tell my father of all my glory in 
Egypt, and all that you have seen; and ye shall 
haste, and bring down my father hither." 

" And he fell upon his brother Benjamin's neck, 
and wept; and Benjamin wept upon his neck. 
Moreover, he kissed all his brethen, and wept upon 
them, and after that, his brethen talked with hitn. 
And Joseph made ready his chariot, and went up 
to meet Israel, his father, to Goshen; and presen- 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 23 

ting himself unto him, he fell upon his neck for 
some time. And Joseph placed his father and his 
brethen; and gave them a possession in the land 
of Egypt, in the best of the land." 

Cato, when but a boy, being asked whom he lo- 
ved best, answered, u My brother Csepas;" and so 
often as the same question was asked, the same 
reply was given. In proof of his affection, when he 
grew to manhood, he never went to supper (says 
Plutarch) nor out of his house to the market place, 
nor into the fields, without him: and when Cae- 
pas died, Cato mourned exceedingly, and erected 
a tomb of Thracian marble to his memory, which 
cost him eight talents. 

Scylurus, the Scythian, having fourscore sons, 
desired nothing so much as to bring them up in 
the love of each other: and, to shew them how in- 
vincible such a concord would render them, as he 
lay on his death-bed, he called them around him, 
and giving each of them a bundle of javelins, bade 
them try if they could break the bundles. The 
young men having attempted, and declaring it im- 
practicable, Scylurus untied the bundles in their 
presence, broke the javelins, one by one, with the 
greatest ease, and from thence took occasion thus 
to address his children: " Behold my sons, your 
strength while linked together in the bonds of 
amity: on the contrary, how weak, and what an 
easy prey you must be, when separated in your 
interests by discord and sedition!" 

As one of the water bearers at the fountain of 
the Fauxbourg St. Germain, in Paris, was at his 
usual labours in August, 1766, he was taken away 
by a gentleman in a splendid coach, who proved to 
be his own brother, and who, at the age of three 
years, had been caried to India, where he made a 
considerable fortune. On his return to France 



24 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 



he made enquiry respecting his family; and hear- 
ing that he had only one brother alive, and that 
he was in this humble condition of a water bearer, 
he sought him out, embraced him with great affec- 
tion, and brought him to his house, where he gave 
him bills for upwards of a thousand crowns per 
annum. 

The learned and pious Bishop Hall tells us, in 
his " Specialties/' that, instead of being sent to 
the university when a boy, he was very near being 
placed for education under a private tutor at Lei- 
cester: but his elder brother having occasion to 
go to Cambridge about this time, and waiting upon 
a fellow of Emanuel College, the latter, on hear- 
ing of the diversion of old Mr. Hal& former pur- 
poses from the university, importunately dissua- 
ded him from that new course, professing to pity 
the loss of such good hopes. The elder brother, 
moved with these words, on his return home fell 
upon his knees to his father, ;£nd besought him 
to alter so prejudicial a resolution, and not to suf- 
fer the young man's hopes to be drowned in a shal- 
low country channel, but revive his first intentions 
for Cambridge; adding, in the zeal of his affec- 
tion, that if the charaBableness of that course were 
the hindrance, he sjHtld be rather pleased to sell 
part of that land which;, in the order of nature, he 
was to inherit, than 4 p^bridge his brother of so 
happy a means to perfect his education. This very 



uncommon and 
had its due effect 
the success and 
the excellent 




pr< 

Gil 
sei 



ite. 
Le father of j 
ivill, had a 
tie on his eldl 



pie instance of generosity 

he world sufficiently knows 

g which attended it through 

of this eloquent and devout 



Imminent lawyer, Mr. Serjeant 

estate, which he intended to 

son; but he proving a vicious 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 25 

young man, and there being no hopes of his reco- 
very, he devolved it upon the serjeant, who was 
his second son. Upon the father's death, the eld- 
est, finding that what he had before considered as 
the mere threatenings of an angry old man, were 
now but too certain, became melancholy, which, 
by degrees, wrought in him so great a change, that 
what his father could not prevail in while he lived, 
was now effected by the severity of his last will. 
His brother, observing this, invited him, together 
with many of his friends, to a feast ; where, after 
other dishes had been served up, he ordered one, 
which was covered, to be set before his brother, 
and desired him to uncover it ; upon his doing 
which, the company, no less than himself, were 
surprised to find it full of writings : and still more, 
when the serjeant told him, "that he was now 
doing what he was sure his father would have 
done, had he lived to see the happy change which 
they now all saw in his brother; and therefore he 
freely restored to him the whole estate." 

In the year 1585, the Portuguese carracks sail- 
ed from Lisbon to Goa, a very rich and flourish- 
ing colony of that nation, in the East Indies. On 
board of one of these vessels were no less than 
1200 souls, mariners, passengers, priests, and friars. 
The beginning of the voyage was prosperous ; but 
not many days after, through the perverseness of 
the pilot, the ship struck on a rock, and instant 
death began to stare them in the face. In this 
distress the captain ordered the pinnace to be 
launched ; into which, having tossed a small quan- 
tity of biscuit, and some boxes of marmalade, he 
jumped in himself, with nineteen others, who, with 
their swords, prevented thecomingofany more, lest 
the boat should sink. Thus scantily equipped, 
they put off into the great Indian Ocean, without 

c 



26 FRATERNAL LOVE. 

a compass to steer by, or any fresh water but what 
might happen to fall from the heavens, whose 
mercy alone could deliver them. At the end of 
four or five days the captain died with sickness ; 
and they were obliged, to prevent confusion, to elect 
one of their company to command them. This 
person proposed to them to draw lots, and cast 
every fourth man over-board, their small stock of 
provision being now so far spent as not to be suf- 
ficient at very short allowance to sustain life above 
three days longer. To this they agreed ; so that 
there were four to die out of their unhappy number, 
the captain, a friar, and a carpenter, being exempt- 
ed by general consent. The lots being cast, three 
of the first submitted to their fate, after they had 
confessed and received absolution. The fourth 
victim was a Portuguese gentlemen, that had a 
younger brother in the boat ; who, seeing him 
about to be thrown overboard, most tenderly em- 
braced him, and with tears besought him to let him 
die in his room ; enforcing his arguments by telling 
him, " that he was a married man, and had a wife 
and children at Goa, besides the care of three sis- 
ters, who absolutely depended upon him for sup- 
port ; whereas himself was single, and his life of no 
great importance :" he therefore conjured him to 
suffer him to supply his place, assuring him that 
he had rather die for him than live without him. 
The elder brother, astonished, and melted with his 
generosity, replied, cs that, since the Divine Pro- 
vidence had appointed him to suffer, it would be 
wicked and unjust to permit any other to die for 
him, but especially a brother, to whom he was so 
infinitely obliged/' The younger, however, per- 
sisting in his refusal, would take no denial, but, 
throwing himself on his knees, held his brother so 
fast that the company could not disengage him. 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 27 

Thus they disputed a while ; the elder bidding him 
be a father to his children, and recommending his 
wife and sisters to his protection ; but all he could 
say could not make the younger desist. This was 
a scene of tenderness that must fill every humane 
breast with pity. At last the constancy of the 
elder brother yielded to the piety of the other, and 
suffered the gallant youth to supply his stead ; 
who, being cast into the sea, and a good swimmer, 
soon got to the stern of the pinnace, and laid hold 
of the rudder with his right hand. This being 
perceived by one of the sailors, he cut off the hand 
with his sword. The youth dropping into the sea, 
presently rose again, and regained his hold with 
his left hand, which received the same fate by a 
second blow. Thus dismembered of both hands, 
he made a shift, notwithstanding, to keep himself 
above water with his feet, and two stumps, which 
he held bleeding upwards. This moving spectacle 
so excited the pity of the whole company, that 
they cried out, " He is but one man ; let us endea- 
vour to save him." Accordingly he was taken into 
the boat, where he had his hands bound up as 
well as the place and circumstances would admit. 
They then continued rowing all night ; and the 
next morning, when the sun rose (as if Heaven 
would reward the gallantry and piety of this young 
man) they descried land, which proved to be the 
mountains of Mozambique, in Africa, not far from 
a Portuguese colony : thither they all safe arrived, 
where they remained till the next ship from Lis- 
bon passed by, and carried them to Goa. At that 
city, Linschoten, a writer of good credit, assures 
us he himself saw them land, supped with the two 
brothers that very night, and had the story from 
their own mouths. 

Titus, the Roman emperor, who was called, for 



28 FRATERNAL LOVE, 

his virtues, u the delight of mankind/' bore such a 
brotherly affection towards Domitian, that, though 
he knew he had spoken irreverently of him, and 
had solicited the army to rebellion, yet he never 
treated him with the less love or respect even on 
that account, nor would suffer others to do so ; but 
called him his partner and successor in the em- 
pire ; and sometimes, when they were alone to- 
gether, he besought him, not only with earnest 
entreaties, but with tears, that he would bear the 
same brotherly love towards him as he always had 
and should ever find from him. 

During the war with Antiochus, the province of 
Asia fell to the lot of Lucius, the brother of Scipio 
Africanus ; but the senate, not thinking his abi- 
lities adequate to the charge, seemed inclinable 
rather to commit the conduct of the war to Cains 
Lselius, his colleague, with whom his brother 
Africanus was in the most intimate friendship. 
But no sooner had the latter heard of their delibe- 
ration, than he earnestly besought the senate not 
to transfer the province, though it were to Lselius 
himself, which had fallen by lot to his brother; 
promising at the same time that he would accom- 
pany Lucius into Asia, and serve with him in qua- 
lity of his legate. Thus the elder brother foster- 
ed and supported the younger : the valiant de- 
fended the weak ; and so aided him with his coun- 
sel, that at length Lucius returned to his country 
triumphant, and w T as crowned with the glorious 
surname of Scipio Asiaticus. 

Henry, king of Arragon and Sicily, left, at his 
death, his only son, John, a child of two-and-twen- 
ty months old, whom he intrusted to the care and 
fidelity of his brother Ferdinand. This prince was 
a man of great virtue and merit, and therefore the 
eyes of the nobles and people were fixed upon 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 29 

him ; and not only in private discourses, but in 
the public assemblies, he had the general voice and 
consent to be chosen kino; of Arrao;on. With un- 
shaken magnanimity, however, he remained deaf 
to these offers ; alleged and asserted the right of 
his infant nephew, and the custom of the coun- 
try, together with his dying brother's last will, 
is which," said he, " you are bound the rather to 
maintain, by how much the more incapable the 
young prince is to do it." His words, notwith- 
standing, had not the effect he wished, and the as- 
sembly adjourned for that day. Soon after, they 
met again, in hopes that, having had time to con- 
sider of it, he would now accept their suffrages. 
Ferdinand, apprized of their purpose, prepared 
himself for their reception, caused the little child 
to be clothed in royal robes, and, having hid him 
under his garments, went and took his seat in the 
assembly. Upon which, the master of the horse, 
by order of the states, coming up, and asking him 
* Whom, O Ferdinand, is it your pleasure to have 
declared our king?" the generous prince, with a 
sharp look and solemn tone, replied, "Whom but 
John, the son of our brother?" Having said this, 
he immediately took the infant from under his 
robe, and, lifting him upon his shoulders, with a 
loud voice, cried, u God save King John !" Then 
setting down the child, and commanding the royal 
banners to be displayed, he cast himself first to the 
ground before him ; and all the rest, moved by his 
illustrious example, did the like. 

Timoleon, the Corinthian, is a noble pattern of 
fraternal love ; for being in a battle with the Ar- 
gives, and seeing his brother fall down dead with 
the wounds he had received, he instantly leapt over 
his dead body, and with his shield protected it 
from insult and plunder; and though sorely 



30 FRATERNAL LOVE. 

wounded in this generous enterprize, he would not 
by any means retreat to a place of safety, till he 
had seen the corpse carried off the field by his 
friends. How happy for Christians would they 
imitate this heathen, and as tenderly screen from 
abuse and calumny the wounded reputation or dy- 
ing honour of an absent or defenceless brother ! 

Two brothers named Chserephon and Chserecra- 
tes, had quarrelled with each other ; and Socrates 
being acquainted with them, was solicitous to re- 
store their amity. Meeting, therefore, with Chae- 
recrates, he thus accosted him : " Is not friend- 
ship the sweetest solace in adversity, and the 
greatest enhancement of the blessings of prosperi- 
ty ?" u Certainly it is," replied Chserecrates ; " be- 
cause our sorrows are diminished, and our joys in- 
creased, by sympathetic participation." Amongst 
whom, then, must we look for a friend ?" said So- 
crates. "Would you search amongst strangers ! 
They cannot be interested about you. Amongst 
your rivals ? They have an interest in opposition 
to your's. Amongst those who are much older or 
younger than yourself? Their feelings and pursuits 
will be widely different from your's. Are there 
not, then, some circumstances favourable, and 
others essential, to the constitution of friendship?" 
" Undoubtedly there are," answered Chserecrates. 
u May we not enumerate," continued Socrates, 
" amongst the circumstances favourable to friend- 
ship, long acquaintance, common connections, 
similitude of age, and union of interest ?" '* I ac- 
knowledge," said Chserecrates, " the powerful in- 
fluence of these circumstances : but they may sub- 
sist, and yet others be wanting, that are essential 
to mutual amity." " And what," said Socrates, 
" are those essentials which are wanting in Chae- 
rephon?" " He has forfeited my esteem and at* 



FRATERNAL LOVE. 31 

tachment," answered Chserecrates. " And has he 
also forfeited the esteem and attachment of the 
rest of mankind ?" continued Socrates. " Is he 
devoid of benevolence, generosity, gratitude, and 
other social affections ?" " The gods forbid," 
cried Chaerecrates, "that I should lay such a heavy 
charge upon him ! His conduct to others, I be- 
lieve, is irreproachable ; and it wounds me the 
more, that he should single me out as the object 
of his unkindness." " Suppose you have a very 
valuable horse," resumed Socrates, u gentle under 
the treatment of others, but ungovernable when 
you attempt to use him, would you not endea- 
vour by all means to conciliate his affection, and 
to treat him in the way most likely to render him 
tractable ? Or if you have a dog, highly prized for 
his fidelity, watchfulness, and care of your flocks, 
who is fond of your shepherds, and playful with 
them, and yet snarls whenever you come in his 
way, would you attempt to cure him of this fault 
by angry looks or w T ords, or any other marks of 
resentment ? You would surely pursue an opposite 
course with him. And is not the friendship of a 
brother of far more worth than the services of a 
horse, or the attachment of a dog ? Why then do 
you delay to put in practice those means which 
may reconcile you to Chaerephon?" u Acquaint 
me with those means/' answered Chaerecrates, 
" for I am a stranger to them." " Answer me a few 
questions," said Socrates. " If you desire that one 
of your neighbours should invite you to his feast, 
when he offers a sacrifice, what course would you 
take ?" " I would first invite him to mine." 
" And how would you induce him to take the 
charge of your affairs when you are on a journey f 
" I should be forward to do the same good office 
to him in his absence." " If you be solicitous to 



32 FRATERNAL LOVE. 

remove a prejudice which he may have conceived 
against you, how would you then behave towards 
him ?" " I should endeavour to convince him, by 
my looks, words, and actions, that such prejudice 
was ill-founded ." " And if he appeared inclined 
to reconciliation, would you reproach him with 
the injustice he had done you ?" " No," answer- 
ed Chserecrates, " I would repeat no grievances." 
" Go," said Socrates, " and pursue that conduct 
towards your brother which you would practise to 
a neighbour. His friendship is of inestimable 
worth ; and nothing is more delightful to the gods, 
than for brethren to dwell together in unity." 



33 



EARLY APPLICATION TO WISDOM. 



SENTIMENTS. 

" Wisdom is the principal thing ; therefore get vns- 
dom ; and with all thy getting, get understanding ; 
exalt her, and she shall promote thee : she shall 
bring thee to honour, when thou dost embrace her. 
She shall give to thine head an ornament of grace; 
a crown of glory shall she deliver to thee. 

Cicero (than whom no man was a better judge, 
for no man more earnestly sought, or better un- 
derstood the true nature of wisdom; no man, I 
mean, of the heathen world) has given nearly this 
definition of wisdom. " What," says he, " is more 
desirable than wisdom ; what more excellent in it- 
self; what more useful to man, or more worthy his 
pursuit? They who earnestly seek for it are called 
philosophers ; for philosophy, in the strict mean- 
ing of the word, is no other than the love of wis- 
dom ; but wisdom, as defined by the ancient phi- 
losophers, is the knowledge/of things divine and 
human, and of their efficient causes ; the study of 
which, whoever despises, I know not what he can 
think worthy of his approbation. For whether 
you seek for an agreeable amusement, or a relaxa- 
tion from care, what can be comparable to those 
studies, which are always searching out for some- 
thing that may tend to make life more easy and 
happy ? Are you desirous of learning the princi- 
ples of fortitude and virtue ? This, or none beside, 
is the art by which you may acquire them. They 
who affirm that there is no art in things of the 

c 2 



or : | 
Hit 4 



34 EARLY APPLICATION 

greatest moment, while nothing even the most 
trifling, is attained without the aid of art, are men j 
of no reflection, and guilty of the grossest error : 
but if there is any science of virtue, where shall ' 
be learned, if not in the school of this wisdom ? 

An ignorant, idle man, is dead weight on so- 
ciety ; a wicked, profligate man, is a pest, is a 
nuisance to society : but a wise and virtuous man, 
who labours by all means in his power to advance 
the universal good, to improve the knowledge and 
the happiness of mankind, is at once an ornament 
to his nature, and a blessing to the community ; a 
good planet, shining with a benign influence on all 
around him ; the truest resemblance of his God, 
whose goodness is continually displaying itself 
through the whole extent of being ; and, like that 
God, seeking pleasure in conferring good, and 
feeling happiness according to the degree in which 
he communicates it. 

EXAMPLES. 

Antisthenes being asked what he got by his 
learning, answered, " That he could talk to him- 
self, could live alone, and needed not go abroad 
and be beholden to others for delight." The same 
person desired nothing of the gods to make his 
life happy, but the spirit of Socrates, which would 
enable him to bear any wrong or injury, and to 
continue in a quiet temper, whatever might be- 
fall him. 

Count Oxenstiern, the chancellor of Sw T eden, 
was a person of the first quality, rank, and abili- 
ties, in his own country, and whose care and suc- 
cess, not only in the chief ministry of affairs there, 
but in the greatest negociations of Europe, during 
his time, rendered him no less considerable 
abroad. After all his knowledge and honours, 



TO WISDOM. 35 

being visited in his retreat from public business 
by Commissioner Whitelock, our ambassador to 
Queen Christina, at the close of their conversa- 
tion, he said to the ambassador, " I, Sir, have seen 
much, and enjoyed much of this world ; but I 
never knew how to live till now. I thank my good 
God, who has given me time to know him, and 
likewise myself. All the comfort I take, and which/-v 
is more than the whole world can give, is tl^ ^ 
knowledge of God's love in my heart, and thfe^~ 
reading of this blessed book ;" laying his hand oiv* | 
the Bible. " You are now, Sir/' continued he, *^ 
" in the prime of your age and vigour, and in great J*?l-- 
favour and business ; but this will all leave you, * /J 
and you will one day better understand and relish **k^T 
what I say to you. Then you will find thatt|£e*e $7^ 
is more wisdom, truth, comfort, and pleasurerTn -*• 
retiring and turning your heart from the world, in \ 
the good spirit of God, and in reading his sacred C M 
word, than in all the cpyrts ajid all the favours of / 

princes." (Uili . f 

The Romans, we are* told, built their Temple of / J 
Virtue immediately before that sacred to Honour, f S 
to teach that it was necessary to be virtuous be- 
fore being; honoured. St. Augustine observes, 
that though these temples were contiguous, there 
was no entering that of Honour till after having 
passed through that of Virtue. f 

Seneca, after a serious study of all the philoso- ' 
phy in his time in the world, was almost a Chris- 
tian in his severe reproofs of vice, and commen- 
dations of virtue. His expressions are sometimes 
divine, soaring far above the common sphere of 
heathen authors. How beautiful is that sentence 
of his, in the preface to his Natural Questions ! 
" What a pitiful thing would man be, if his soul 
did not soar above these earthly things !" And 



~36 EARLY APPLICATION 

though he was sometimes doubtful about the 
future condition of his soul, yet he tells his dear 
Lucius with what pleasure he thought of its fu- 
ture bliss : and then goes on to argue that the soul 
of man hath this mark of divinity in it, that it is 
most pleased with divine speculations, and con- 
verses with them as with matters in which it is 
most nearly concerned. " When this soul," saith 
he, "hath once viewed the vast dimensions of the 
heavens, it despises the meanness of its former 
little cottage. Were it not for these contempla- 
tions, it had not been worth our while to have 
come into this world, nor would it make us amends 
for any pains and care we take about this present 
life," At length, he concludes his arguments with 
I this remarkable reason for inferring the blessed- 
ness of pious souls : " Let us not wonder that 
good men go to G od after death, since God vouch- 
safes to enter into them here, in order to render 
them good ; for no soul can be good without 
him." 

Alexander the Greatbeing asked why he honour- 
ed his master Aristotle more than Philip his father, 
he replied, " My father brought me down from 
heaven to earth, but my master made me reascend 
from earth to heaven." The one only gave him 
life, the other instructed him how to live well. 

The Spartans, we find, paid a particular atten- 
tion to the peculiar genius and disposition of their 
youths, in order the better to adapt them to such 
employments as were most suitable to their capa- 
cities, and wherein they might be most beneficial 
to society. Among them it was not lawful for the 
father himself to bring up his children after his 
own fancy. As soon as they were seven years old, 
they were all enrolled in several companies, and 
disciplined by the public. The old men were 



TO WISDOM. 37 

spectators of their performances, who often raised 
emulations among them, and set them at strife one 
with another, that, by those early discoveries, they 
might see how their several talents lay, and with- 
out any regard to their quality, dispose of them 
accordingly, for the service of the commonwealth. 
By this means Sparta soon became the mistress 
of Greece, and famous through the whole world 
for her civil and military dicipline. 

Agesilaus, king of Sparta, being asked what he 
thought most proper for boys to learn, answered, 
" What they ought to do when they come to be 
men." Thus a wiser than Agesilaus hath incul- 
cated : " Train up a child in the way he should go, 
and when he is old he will not depart from it." 

Simonides, an excellent poet, the better to sup- 
port himself under narrow circumstances, went the 
tour of Asia, singing from city to city the praises 
of their heroes and great men, and receiving their 
rewards. By this means, having at last become 
wealthy, he determined to return to his own coun- 
try by sea, being a native of the Island of Ceos. 
Accordingly he w r ent on board a vessel, which had 
not been long on the voyage before a terrible 
tempest arose, and reduced it to a wreck in the 
midst of the sea. Upon this, some of the people 
packed up their treasures, others their most valu- 
able merchandise, and tied them round their bo- 
dies, as the best means of supporting their future 
existence, should they escape the present dangers. 
But amidst all their solicitude, a certain inquisi- 
tive person, observing Simonides quite inactive, 
and seemingly unconcerned, asked him, " What ! 
don't you look after any of your effects ? " " No," 
replied the poet, calmly, " all that is mine is with 
me." Then some few of them, and he among the 
rest, took to swimming ; and several got safe 



38 EARLY APPLICATION 

ashore, while many more perished in the waves, 
wearied and encumbered with the burdens they 
had bound about them. To complete the calamity, 
some plunderers soon after came down upon the 
coast, and seized all that each man had brought 
away with him, leaving them naked. The ancient 
city of Clazomene happened to be near at hand, 
to which the shipwrecked people repaired. Here 
a certain man of letters, who had often read the 
verses of Simonides, and was his great admirer, 
hearing him one day speak in the market-place, 
enquired his name ; and finding it was he, gave 
him a welcome reception to his own house, and 
supplied him with clothes, money, and servants to 
attend him ; while the rest of the company were 
forced to carry a letter about this foreign city, 
setting forth their case, and begging bread. The 
next day Simonides met with them in his walks, 
and thus addressed them : " Did I not tell you, my 
friends, that all which I had was with me ? but you 
see all that which you could carry away with you 
perished." Thus wisdom is proved to be the most 
durable possession, and the best security amidst 
every want and trial. 

Nicholas Breakspear, who, on his advancement 
to the popedom, assumed the name of Adrian IV. 
was, in the early part of his life, reduced to the 
necessity of submitting to servile offices for bread. 
He studied in France, where, though he laboured 
under the pressures of poverty, he made a wonder- 
ful progress in learning. One day, on an interview 
with an intimate friend, he told him that all the 
hardships of his life were nothing in comparison to 
the papal crown ; and, speaking of the difficulties 
and sorrows he had experienced, he observed, 
" that he had been, as it were, strained through the 
alembic of affliction ." This great and exemplary 



TO WISDOM. 39 

man was in such high veneration, that Frederick, 
king of the Romans, at an interview with him, in 
Italy, condescended to hold the stirrup while he 
mounted his horse. He was the onlv Englishman 
that ever satin the papal chair. 

Thomas, earl of Dorset, who lived in the reign 
of James I. may not only be ranked with the chief 
men of his age as a scholar and a statesman, but 
was, moreover, an admirable manager of his pri- 
vate fortune and of the public revenue. The for- 
mer, indeed, he had been called to from the most 
substantial motives : for it seems he succeeded 
early in life to an immense estate, which, as he 
thought it set him above economy, he lavished 
without care. However, in a few years, by means 
of his excessive magnificence and dissipation, he 
found himself involved in debt. The indignity of 
being on a certain day, kept in waiting by an 
alderman, of whom he had occasion to borrow 
money, opened his eyes, and made so deep an 
impression upon him, that he resolved from that 
moment to become a better economist. Accord- 
ingly, we are told he managed his finances so well, 
that he was thought a proper person to succeed the 
great Cecil, lord Burleigh, as lord high treasurer 
of England. 

The famous Torquato Tasso, by his poem enti- 
tled Rinaldo, extended his reputation throughout 
all Italy, but greatly chagrined his father, who 
thought it might seduce him from studies more 
advantageous. Accordingly he went to Padua, 
where his son then was, to remonstrate against 
his apparent purpose of devoting himself to phi- 
losophy and poetry, and made use of many very 
harsh expressions ; all which Tasso heard with a 
patience and tranquillity that made the old gen- 
tleman still more angry. At last, u Of what use/' 



40 EARLY APPLICATION TO WISDOM. 

cried he, " is that philosophy on which you value 
yourself so much V " Sir/' replied Tasso calmly, 
"it has enabled me to endure patiently the harsh- 
ness even of your reproofs. 

Sir Thomas Smith, secretary of state to Queen 
Elizabeth, a few months before he died, sent to his 
friends, the bishops of Winchester and Wor- 
cester, entreating them to draw up for him, out of 
the word of God, the plainest and best directions 
for making his peace with him ; adding, " That it 
was great pity men knew not to what end they 
were born into the world, till they were just at the 
point of quitting it." 

Sir John Mason was born in the reign of Henry 
VII. and lived in high esteem with Henry VIII. 
Edward VI. Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth ; 
having been a privy counsellor to each of the four 
last, and an accurate observer of all the various 
revolutions and vicissitudes of those times. When 
he lay on his death-bed, he called his family toge- 
ther, and addressed them in the following terms : 
" Lo ! here have I lived to see five princes, and 
have been a counsellor to four : I have seen the 
most remarkable things in foreign parts, and been 
present at most state transactions for thirty years 
together : and I have learned this, after so many 
years' experience, " that seriousness is the greatest 
wisdom, temperance the best physician, and a 
good conscience the best estate : and, were I to 
live again, I would exchange the court for the clois- 
ter ; my privy counsellor's bustles for an hermit's 
retirement ; and the whole life I have lived in the 
palace, for one hour's enjoyment of God in my 
closet. All things else forsake me, except my 
God, my duty, and my prayers." 



41 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

SENTIMENTS. 

Not with eye-service, as men-pleasers, but as the 
servants of Christ; doing the zvill of God from 
the heart : with good-will doing service, as to the 
Lord, and not to men. Knowing that whatsoever 
good thing any man doeth, the same shall he receive 
of the Lord, whether he be bond or free. 

Time is no longer your own, but your master's; 
therefore be careful not to idle or squander it away, 
but to improve every moment of it; that so you 
may not only fulfil the duties of your station, but 
gain such allowed hours as may be properly em- 
ployed to your own emolument and satisfaction. 
There is nothing so valuable and important as 
time; the flying moments of it, once passed, are 
never to be retrieved. Ever mindful hereof, de- 
lay not the immediate performance of that which, 
the occasion slipped, you may perhaps never have 
it in your power to perform at all. 

So must you be particularly careful of your 
trust. Your master's interests are become your's ; 
you owe him the strictest fidelity; and if you are 
found deficient herein, you must never expect 
either confidence or character. Fidelity shews 
itself in words and action, and may be distin- 
guished into truth in words, and integrity in deeds. 
Nothing is so dishonourable and disgraceful as 
lying, or a deviation from truth. It is always the 
mark of a mean and worthless spirit ; a vice, God 



42 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

knows, which too early discovers itself in the hu- 
man mind; and to discourage and eradicate which, 
no caution or attention can be too great or severe. 
As it is founded in the worst principles, so it is 
productive of the greatest evils ; being not only 
extremely vicious and faulty in itself, but gene- 
rally the introduction to, and cloak for, other faults 
and vices. Simply to lie is an offence ; to lie in 
order to conceal a fault, is a double offence: but 
to lie, with a malicious purpose, with a view to 
injure or prejudice others, is an offence aggravated 
tenfold, and truly diabolical ; an indication of the 
most corrupt and abandoned heart ; and the mis- 
chief of it is, that they who indulge themselves in 
the practice at all, generally are led on by the 
father of lies to the very excess of it. Never, 
therefore, in a smaller or greater matter, suffer 
your lips to deviate from the truth ; speak it ho- 
nestly, openly, and without reserve : you cannot 
conceive how easily the mind is corrupted by the 
slightest indulgence in falsehood, by the least 
licence given to little mean reservations, equivo- 
cations, and mental chicaneries. Be assured that 
a fault is always doubled by denying it; an open, 
frank confession disarms resentment, and conci- 
liates affection : such a regard to truth will gain 
you credit, and give you dignity. It is high, it 
is an amiable character of any man, of a young 
man more especially, to say, that his veracity is 
always to be depended upon; whereas the con- 
trary is just as low and despicable. And if you 
accustom yourself to falsehood, such will be your 
character ; for the natural consequence of being 
caught in one lie is, that from that time, whatever 
you shall say will be received with doubt or sus- 
picion. And I would ask. Can there be any thing 
more disgraceful than to stand in such a light 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 43 

amongst your fellow-creatures, as to have your 
word despised and unregarded, and even the truth 
you speak disbelieved? 

There is great reason to presume, that those 
who are conscientious in their words will be so in 
their actions ; that they will shew the same regard 
to truth in the one as in the other : this is indispen- 
sably requisite. The least temptation to fraud 
must never be suffered to remain a moment in 
your hearts ; dishonesty will blast your reputation, 
and all your hopes ; and it will still be the worse 
in you, to whom your master intrusts the care of 
his property ; for a breach of trust is ever the 
highest aggravation of an offence. Always there- 
fore consider yourself as intrusted with the charge 
of your master's property ; consider it as most 
sacred; and while you never allow in yourself a 
single thought of embezzling or injuring it, never 
permit yourself to connive at such practices in 
others. Next to the being vicious ourselves, is 
the consenting to, or conniving at, vice in others; 
and he is not far from falling into the same sin, 
who can see it with unconcern, and without re- 
proof, in another. Not that I would have you 
busy and pragmatical, ready at all times to whis- 
per idle stories, in the ears of your superiors: 
this will certainly render you extremely odious and 
disgusting to those who are upon a level with you ; 
your life will become uneasy; and your own con- 
duct will be most scrupulously examined. 

You owe to your master, and indeed to yourself, 
industry and close application to business. He 
expects it from you as his right; and you will do 
well to give it, not only for that reason, but for 
your own sake also ; because thus you will not 
only improve in the proper knowledge of that 
business which you are apprenticed to learn, but 



44 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

will preserve yourself from the numberless dan- 
gers attendant upon idleness. Every thing is 
possible to industry ; and it will be very difficult 
to produce any instances of men who, joining 
strict honesty to continued industry, have failed 
of their due success in this world. 

In short, in this, and in all other instances of 
your duty to your master, let one general rule ever 
have its due influence on your conduct, and it will 
always direct you right : " Consider his interests 
and welfare as your own." Thus, as a son with a 
father, you will never injure, nor see him injured : 
on the contrary, sensible of your duty to him and 
to your God, you will study to act your part with 
fidelity, recommending yourself, by such conduct, 
at once to your earthly and your Heavenly Master. 

EXAMPLES. 

Solon, the Athenian legislator, enacted that the 
son should not relieve his father when he was old, 
except he had brought him up to some occupa- 
tion ; and this he did that all persons might have 
some honest trade, by their skill and industry in 
which the community might be benefited, and 
themselves and their families maintained. He 
ordered also, that the council of Areopagus should 
enquire how every man lived, and punish all who 
were found idle, 

The Egyptians enjoined all men to be of some 
trade ; and a law was made by Amasis, one of 
their kings, that every man once a year should 
give an account how he lived; and that the per- 
son who could not show by what means he main- 
tained himself, should be put to death. 

Among the Turks, every man must be of some 
trade, the Grand Signior himself not excepted. 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 45 

Mahomet the Great, who conquered Greece, 
learned the art of a carver, and used to make 
wooden spoons. 

Those who neglect the duties of their profes- 
sion, whatever it may be, are exposed to the 
greatest danger. An honest man's heart is in his 
business : w 7 hen he quits it, it is as a fish quits its 
element, for recreation, or from necessity ; but he 
soon returns to it again. 

The Archbishop of Cambray makes Telemachus 
declare, that, though he was young in vears, he 
w 7 as old in the art of knowing how to keep both 
his own and his friend's secrets. " When my fa- 
ther,'' says the prince, " w 7 ent to the siege of 
Troy, he took me on his knees, and after embra- 
cing and blessing me, as he was surrounded by 
the nobles of Ithaca, ' O my friends !' said he, 
'into your hands I commit the education of my 
son ; if you ever loved his father, show it in your 
care towards him ; but, above all, do not omit 
to form him. just, sincere, and faithful in keep- 
ing a secret.' These words of my father," says 
Telemachus, " were continually repeated to me 
by his friends in his absence, who made no 
scruple of communicating to me their uneasiness 
at seeing my mother surrounded with lovers, and 
the measures they designed to take on that occa- 
sion." He adds, that he Was so gratified by being 
thus treated like a man, and by the confidence 
reposed in him, that he never abused it : nor could 
all the insinuations of his father's rivals ever get 
him to betray what was committed to him under 
the seal of secrecy. 

" There is nothing," says Plato, " so delightful 
as the hearing or the speaking of truth." For this 
reason it is, that there is no conversation so agree- 
able as that of a man of integrity who hears with- 



46 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

out any intention to deceive. An advocate, once 
pleading the cause of his client at Rome, before 
one of the prsetors, could only produce a single 
witness in a point where the law required the tes- 
timony of two persons ; upon which the advocate 
insisted upon the integrity of the person whom he 
had produced : but the prsetor told him, that 
where the law required two witnesses, he would 
not accept one, though it were Cato himself. 
Such a speech from a person who sat at the head 
of a court of justice, and while Cato was still 
living, shows us more than a thousand examples, 
the high reputation this great man had gained 
among his contemporaries on account of his 
sincerity. 

As I was sitting, says an ancient writer, with 
some senators of Bruges, before the gate of the 
senate-house, a beggar presented himself to us, 
and with sighs and tears, and many lamentable 
gestures, expressed to us his miserable poverty, 
and asked our alms ; telling us at the same time, 
that he had about him a private maim, and a se- 
cret mischief, which very shame restrained him 
from discovering to the eyes of men. We all 
pitying the case of the poor man, gave him each 
of us something, and departed. One, however, 
among us, took the opportunity to send his ser- 
vant after him, with orders to enquire of him what 
that private infirmity might be, which he found 
such cause to be ashamed of, and was so loth to 
discover. The servant overtook him, and deliver- 
ed his commission ; and, after having diligently 
viewed his face, breast, arms, legs, and finding all 
his limbs in apparent soundness, " Why, friend/' 
said he, " I see nothing whereof you have any 
such reason to complain." " Alas ! Sir," said the 
beggar, " the disease which afflicts me is far dif- 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES, 47 

ferent from what you conceive, and is such as 
you cannot discern : yet it is an evil which hath 
crept over my whole body : it has passed through 
my very veins and marrow in such a manner, 
that there is no member of my body that is able 
to work for my daily bread. This disease is by 
some called idleness, and by others sloth." The 
servant, hearing this singular apology, left him, 
in great anger, and returned to his master with 
the above account ; but, before the company 
could send again, to make further enquiry after 
him, the beggar had very prudently withdrawn 
himself. 

Action, we are assured, keeps the soul in con- 
stant health, but idleness corrupts and rusts the 
s mind ; for a man of great abilities may, by negli- 
gence and idleness, become so mean and despi- 
cable, as to be an incumbrance to society, and a 
burden to himself. When the Roman historians 
described an extraordinary man, it generally 
entered into his character, as an essential, that he 
was incredibili industria diligentia, industria dili- 
gentia singulari — " of incredible industry, of sin- 
gular diligence and application." And Cato, in 
Sallust, informs the senate, that it was not so 
much the arms, as the industry, of their ances- 
tors, which advanced the grandeur of Rome, and 
made her mistress of the world. Similar to which 
is the observation of Solomon — " Seest thou a 
man diligent in his business, he shall stand before 
kings, he shall not stand before mean men." 

Cepio was adjudged to death for some offence 
in the reign of Augustus Caesar ; but his servant, 
in the night-time, carried him in a chest out of 
Rome, and brought him, by repeated nocturnal 
journeys, from Ostia to the Laurentine Fields, 
where was his father's villa. Afterwards, in order 



48 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

to be at a further distance from danger, they took 
ship ; but being forced back by a tempest, and 
driven on the coast of Naples, the servant was 
there apprehended, and brought before the centu- 
rion, who put him to a strict examination. Every 
art, however, was ineffectual to warp him from his 
duty ; nor could he be prevailed on, either by 
bribes or menaces, to make any discovery of his 
master's retreat. 

Micithus, domestic of Anaxilaus, king of the 
Rhegini, was left by his dying master, to govern 
his kingdom, and superintend his children during 
their minority. Throughout his viceroyship, he 
behaved himself with such clemency and justice, 
that the people saw themselves happily placed 
under a person, whose quality was neither unfit to 
bear rule, nor too mean for the high post he oc- 
cupied : and yet, w T hen the children of Anaxilaus 
came of age, he immediately devolved the power 
into their hands, and at the same time transferred 
to them the treasures which, by his economy, he 
had accumulated ; accounting himself merely as 
their guardian and trustee : while, for his own 
part, content with a small pittance, he retired to 
Olympia, and there lived in the private enjoyment 
of respect, security, and the noble testimony of a 
faithful and upright conscience. 

The following, we are informed, is a true rela- 
tion of an event which happened in a neighbouring 
state, not many years ago. A jeweller, a man of 
good character and considerable wealth, having 
occasion, in the way of business, to travel at some 
distance from the place of his abode, took along 
with him a servant. He had with him some of 
his best jewels, and a large sum of money, to which 
his servant was likewise privy. The master having 
occasion to dismount on the road, the servant 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 49 

watched his opportunity, took a pistol from his 
master's saddle, and shot him dead on the spot. 
Then rifling him of his jewels and money, and 
hanging a large stone to his neck, he threw him 
into the nearest canal. With this booty, he made 
off to a distant part of the country, where he had 
reason to believe that neither he nor his master 
were known. There he began to trade, in a very 
low way at first, that his obscurity might screen 
him from observation ; and, in the course of many 
years, seemed to rise up, by the natural progress 
of business, into wealth and consideration ; so that 
his good fortune appeared at once the effect of in- 
dustry, and the reward of virtue. Of these he 
counterfeited the appearance so well, that he grew 
into great credit, married into a good family, and 
by laying out his hidden stores discreetly as he saw 
occasion, and joining to all a universal affability, 
he was at length admitted to a share of the govern- 
ment of the town, and rose from one post to an- 
other, till at last he was chosen chief magistrate. 
In this office he maintained a fair character, and 
continued to fill it with no small applause, both as 
governor and judge ; till one day, as he sat on the 
bench with some of his brethren, a criminal was 
brought before him, who was accused of murder- 
ing his master. The evidence came out full ; the 
jury brought in their verdict that the prisoner was 
guilty, and the whole assembly waited the sentence 
of the president of the court, which happened to 
be himself, in great suspense. Meanwhile, he ap- 
peared to be in unusual disorder and agitation of 
mind ; his colour changed often : at length he 
arose from his seat, and coming down from the 
bench, placed himself just by the unfortunate man 
at the bar, to the no small astonishment of all 
present. — " You see before you," said he, address- 

D 



50 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

ing himself to those who had sat on the bench with 
him, " a striking instance of the just awards of 
heaven, which this day, after thirty years conceal- 
ment, presents to you a greater criminal than the 
man just now found guilty." Then he made an 
ample confession of his heinous offence, with all 
its peculiar aggravations : " Nor can I," continued 
he, " feel any relief from the agonies of an awak- 
ened conscience, but by requiring that justice be 
forthwith done against me in the most pubiic and 
solemn manner/' We may easily suppose the 
amazement of all, especially his fellow judges. 
They accordingly proceeded, upon his confession, 
to pass sentence upon him, and he died with all 
the symptoms of a penitent mind. 

A man who gains a precarious livelihood by un- 
lawful practices, never enjoys a truly quiet mo- 
ment : his conscience is continually preying upon 
his mind, and he feels himself under incessant ap- 
prehensions and fears. He is afraid to lie down in 
his bed, fearing he maybe seized before morning; 
he is afraid to stir out in the day-time ; and thinks 
himself suspected by every eye ; he is afraid to 
be in company ; he is afraid to be alone : and yet 
he cannot refrain from his vicious pursuits ; temp- 
tation, especially in youth, has such a prevailing 
power over the human mind. Be always assured, 
that no acquisitions of guilt can compensate the 
loss of that solid, inward comfort of mind, which 
is the sure companion of innocence and virtue ; 
nor can it in the least counterbalance the evil of 
that horror and anxiety, which, in their room, guilt 
always introduces into their bosom. 

Scipio the younger, when only twenty-four years 
of age, was appointed by the Roman republic to 
the command of the army against the Spaniards. 
Soon after the conquest of Carthagena, the capi- 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 51 

tal of the empire, his integrity and virtue were put 
to the following exemplary and ever-memorable 
trial, related by historians, ancient and modern, 
with universal applause. Being retired into his 
camp, some of his officers brought him a young 
virgin of such exquisite beauty, that she drew 
upon her the eyes and admiration of all. The 
young conqueror started from his seat with con- 
fusion and surprise ; and like one thunderstruck, 
seemed to be robbed of that presence of mind and 
self-possession so necessary in a general, and for 
which Scipio was remarkably famous. In a few mo- 
ments, having rallied his straggling spirits, he en- 
quired of the beautiful captive, in the most civil 
and polite manner, concerning her country, birth, 
and connections ; and, finding that she was be- 
trothed to a Celtiberian prince, named Allucius, 
he ordered both him and the captive's parents 
to be sent for. The Spanish prince no sooner 
appeared in his presence than, even before he 
spoke to the father and mother, Scipio took him 
aside, and to remove the anxiety he might be in 
on account of the young lady, he addressed him in 
these words : " Ycu and I are young, which ad- 
mits of my speaking to you with more liberty. 
Those who brought me your future spouse, assured 
me, at the same time, that you loved her with 
extreme tenderness ; and her beauty left me no 
room to doubt it, Upon which, reflecting that if, 
like you, I had thought of making an engage- 
ment, and were not wholly engrossed with the 
affairs of my country, I should myself desire that 
so honourable and laudable a passion might find 
favour ; I therefore think myself happy in the 
present conjuncture to do you service. Though the 
fortune of war has made me your master, I desire 
to be your friend. Here is your wife; take her, 



52 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES* 

and may the gods bless you with her ! One things 
however, I would have you be fully assured of, 
that she has been amongst us as she would have 
been in the house of her father and mother. Far 
be it from Scipio to purchase a loose and momen- 
tary pleasure at the expense of virtue, honour, and 
the happiness of an honest man ! No ; I have 
kept her for you, in order to make you a present 
worthy of you and me. The only gratitude I 
require of you, for this inestimable gift, is, that 
you will be a friend to the Roman people." Al- 
lucius's heart was too full to make him any an- 
swer ; but, throwing himself at the general's feet, 
he wept aloud. The captive lady fell down in the 
same posture, and remained so till the aged father, 
overwhelmed with transports of joy, burst into 
the following words: " Oh, divine Scipio! the 
gods have given thee more than human virtue ! 
Oh, glorious leader ! Oh, wondrous youth ! Does 
not that obliged virgin give thee, while thus pray- 
ing to the gods for thy prosperity, rapture infi- 
nitely above all the transports thou couldest have 
reaped from the possession of her injured person V 9 
Such was Scipio ! a soldier, a youth, a heathen ! 
Nor was his virtue unrewarded : Allucius charmed, 
with such magnanimity, liberality, and politeness, 
went into his own country, and published, on all 
occasions, the praises of his generous and humane 
victor ; crying out, " That there was come into 
Spain a young hero like the gods ; who conquered 
all things less by the force of his arms, than by 
the charms of his virtue, and the greatness of his 
beneficence." Upon this report, continues the 
historian, all Celtiberia submitted to the Romans ; 
and Allucius returned, in a short time, to Scipio, 
at the head of 1400 chosen horse, to facilitate his 
future conquests ; and, to render the marks of 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 53 

his gratitude still more durable, Allucius caused 
the action above related, to be engraven on a 
silver shield, which he presented to Scipio ; a 
present infinitely more inestimable and glorious 
than all his treasures and triumphs. This shield, 
which Scipio carried with him when he returned 
to Rome, was lost in his passing the Rhone, 
with part of the baggage : it continued in that 
river till the year 1665, when some fishermen 
found it ; and it is said to have been in the cabi- 
net of the late unhappy French king, Louis XVI. 
Perrin lost both parents before he could articu- 
late their names, and was obliged to a charity- 
school for his education. At the age of fifteen, 
he was hired by a farmer to be a shepherd, in a 
neighbourhood where Lucetta kept her father's 
sheep. They often met, and w T ere fond of being 
together. Five years thus passed, when their sen- 
sations became more serious. Perrin proposed to 
Lucetta to demand her from her father : she 
blushed, and confessed her willingness. As she 
had an errand to the town next day, the oppor- 
tunity of her absence was chosen for making the 
proposal. " You want to marry my daughter," 
said the old man : " have you a house to cover 
her, or money to maintain her? Lucetta's fortune 
is not enough for both. It won't do, Perrin ; it 
won't do." i( But," replied Perrin, " I have hands 
to work : I have laid up twenty crowns of my 
wages, which will defray the expense of the wed- 
ding : I'll work harder, and lay up more." " Well," 
said the old man, (i you are young, and may wait 
a little: get rich, and my daughter is at your ser- 
vice." Perrin waited for Lucetta's returning in 
the evening. " Has my father given you a refu- 
sal ?" cried Lucetta : " Ah, Lucetta!" cried Per- 
rin, u how unhappy I am for being poor ! But I 
have not lost all hopes : my circumstances may 



54 ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 

change for the better." As they were never tired 
of conversing together, the night drew on, and it 
became dark. Perrin making a false step, fell on 
the ground. Ke found a bag which was heavy. 
Drawing towards a light in the neighbourhood, 
he found that it was filled with gold. " I thank 
heaven/' cries Perrin, in a transport, (s for being 
favourable to our wishes. This will satisfy your 
father, and make us happy." In their way to her 
father's house, a thought struck Perrin : " This 
money is not ours : it belongs to some stranger ; 
and perhaps this moment he is lamenting the loss 
of it : let us go to the vicar for advice : he has 
always been kind to me." Perrin put the bag 
into the vicar's hand, saying that at first he 
looked on it as a providential present, to remove 
the only obstacle to their marriage ; but that he 
now doubted whether he could lawfully detain it. 
The vicar eyed the lovers with attention : he ad- 
mired their honesty, which appeared even to sur- 
pass their affection. " Perrin," said he, " cherish 
these sentiments : heaven will bless you. We 
will endeavour to find out the owner : he will 
reward thy honesty : I will add what I can spare ; 
you shall have Lucetta," The bag was advertised 
in the newspapers, and cried in the neighbouring 
parishes. Some time having elapsed, and the 
money not demanded, the vicar carried it to Per- 
rin : "These twelve thousand livres bear at pre- 
sent no profit : you may reap the interest at least : 
lay them out in such a manner, as to insure the 
sum itself to the owner, if he shall appear." A 
farm was purchased, and the consent of Lucetta's 
father to the marriage was obtained. Perrin was 
employed in husbandry, and Lucetta in family 
affairs. They lived in perfect cordiality ; and two 
children endeared them still the more to each 
other. Perrin one evening returning homeward 



ADVICE TO APPRENTICES. 55 

from his work, saw a chaise overturned, with two 
gentlemen in it. He ran to their assistance, and 
offered them every accommodation his small house 
could afford. " This spot/' cried one of the gen- 
tlemen, " is very fatal to me : ten years ago, I lost 
here twelve thousand livres." Perrin listened 
with attention : " What search made you for 
them ?" said he. " It was not in my power," 
replied the stranger, " to make any search. I was 
hurrying to Port l'Orient, to embark for the In- 
dies ; for the vessel was ready to sail." Next 
morning, Perrin shewed to his guests his house, 
his garden, his cattle, and mentioned the pro- 
duce of his fields. " All these are your property," 
addressing the gentleman who had lost the bag : 
" the money fell into my hands ; I purchased this 
farm with it ; the farm is your's. The vicar has 
an instrument which secures your property, though 
I had died without seeing you." The stranger 
read the instrument with emotion : he looked on 
Perrin, Lucetta, and the children. " Where am 1?" 
^cried he ; " and what do I hear ? What virtue in 
people so low ! Have you any other land but this 
farm ?" " No," replied Perrin ; " but you will 
have occasion for a tenant, and I hope you will 
allow me to remain here." " Your honesty de- 
serves a better recompence," answered the stran- 
ger ; " my success in trade has been great, and I 
have forgot my loss. You are well entitled to 
this little fortune ; keep it as your own." What 
man in the world would have acted like Perrin? 
Perrin and Lucetta shed tears of affection and joy. 
" My dear children," " said he, " kiss the hand of 
your benefactor. Lucetta, this farm now belongs 
to us, and we can enjoy it without anxiety and 
remorse." Thus was honesty rewarded. Let 
those who desire the reward practise the virtue. 



56 



ON BAD COMPANY. 

SENTIMENT. 

Evil communications corrupt good manners. 

All nature loves and seeks society : even the 
animals, which are not of the most ferocious and 
untameable kind, delight to herd together, and 
feel a satisfaction in each other's presence. Man, 
peculiarly formed for society, has no joy in abso- 
lute solitude : cut off from his fellow creatures, so 
far is he from partaking of the pleasures of life, 
that he finds it extremely difficult to support his 
being. From society proceed all the refined com- 
forts and superior enjoyments of life ; and from 
society (so very much mixed are all human ble&^| 
ings) proceed the greatest dangers and evils of life. 
It is unpleasing to think, that, from our chief ad- 
vantages, our greatest evils should flow ; but this 
is not the only instance wherein the observation 
holds good. Society you must, you will have : 
good society is not less difficult to attain, than it 
is advantageous when attained : evil society, as 
common as the air, is as blasting to the manners 
as air, when it bears on its noxious wings pes- 
tilence and disease. The choice of bad com- 
pany evidently proves a bad disposition of mind. 
" Tell me with whom you go," says the proverb, 
" and I will tell you what you are." Free society 
is a matter of absolute choice ; and, like another 
alliance, can never be contracted without consent 



ON BAD COMPANY. 



57 



of parties. Like universally assorts with like ; 
and it is as impossible for a virtuous mind, desirous 
of improvement, and studious to excel in duty, to 
take pleasure in the company of idle, ignorant, 
and vicious persons, as it is for the two greatest 
contraries in nature to unite. Where the sen- 
timents, the conversation, the pursuits, totally 
disagree, what but strife and contention can en- 
sue? Is it probable that persons thus dissentient 
will delight to associate merely to jar and con- 
tend? Far different is the end and design of so- 
cial intercourse. Indeed, the matter wants very 
little proof: the choice of bad companions is as 
infallible a proof of a bad mind, as the choice 
of bad, trifling, and unimproving books, wou~ " 
be of a depraved taste, in the man who had a large 
and excellent library of the best and most im- 
proving authors around him, whence to make his 
selection. 



EXAMPLES. 



ct thou any kind of tree ?" said an eastern 
'sage to a lump of odoriferous earth, which he picked 
up in a grove. " Thou charmest me with thy per- 
fume : M It answered him, " I am only a vile piece 
of earth ; but I dwelt for some time with the rose." 
One of our poets has prettily conveyed this senti- 
ment, by observing, 

Who can travel through tfi Arabian groves, 
And not bear thence some fragrance T* 

The Divine Mercy had inspired a vicious man 
to request admission into a society of sages, whose 
morals were holy and pure. He obtained what 
he earnestly desired : the constant example of their 
virtues deeply affected him. He could not be 





58 ON BAB COMPANY. 

taught a better lesson. He made no delay to imi- 
tate them, and to relinquish his former ill habits. 
He became just, sober, patient, laborious, benefi- 
cent, amiable. His good works could not be con- 
tradicted ; but odious motives were attributed to 
them ; and though his actions were commended, 
his person was not beloved or esteemed. In 
short, most people seemed inclined to pass their 
judgment upon him from what he had been, not 
from what he was. This injustice pierced him 
with sorrow: he shed tears in the bosom of an old 
and venerable friend, whom he knew to be just and 
humane. " My son," said the sage to him, " thou 
art of more worth even than thy reputation : give 
God thanks for it, Happy is the man who can 
say, " My enemies and my rivals censure me in 
the vices which I no longer retain." What signi- 
fies it, if thou art but good, that others persecute 
thee as a wicked man? Hast thou not for thy con- 
solation two clear-sighted witnesses of thy actions ; 
God, and thine own conscience?" 

The royal poet observes, with respect to our 
associates in life, " With the holy, thou sh^Jji^^ 
holy : and with a perfect man, thou shalt G^per^ 
feet : with the clean, thou shalt be clean ; and with 
the froward, thou shalt learn frowardness." 

The following is related by a writer of undoubt- 
ed reputation. Speaking of Prince Eugene, of 
Soissons, he observes, " All those qualifications 
and endowments that can procure love and esteem 
shone conspicuous in this young prince. A grace- 
ful person, the most engaging affability and sweet- 
ness of temper, a quick understanding, a heroic 
ardour, a skill in the sciences, and other parts of 
polite literature, (which was the more extraordinary 
in a prince then but fifteen years of age), united 
to justify the exalted hopes conceived of him. He 



ON BAD COMPANY. 59 

shewed a strong inclination to a military life, and, 
at that early period, was already inuring himself 
to it ; so that, commonly, a bare board served him 
for a pillow. The king had taken the greatest 
care of his education, and suffered him to be ig- 
norant of no branch of knowledge which mi^ht 
contribute to his future advancement. 

" How great things were to be expected from a 
prince of such endowments ! disposed to the wor- 
thiest pursuits, and, closely applying himself to 
them, making a most happy progress. Alas! every 
pleasing expectation formed of him proved in the 
event vain! Bad companions insinuated themselves 
into his good esteem ; bad^ex^mples found him 
unable to withstand them^fWhen the vicious were 
his companions, their maffiers were no longer his 
abhorrence : by associating with them, he soon be- 
came as abandoned as the worst of them ; and, in 
a few years, having lost his virtue, unhappily lost 
his life." There cannot be a stronger or more 
melancholy proof than this, of the fatal influ- 
ence which bad company and bad examples have 
over even the best cultivated and best disposed 
minds. 

The learned and pious Sir Matthew Hale, when 
a youth, was too much addicted to the society of 
some vicious people, which he did not break off till 
an alarming accident drove him from it. Being 
invited, with some other young students, to a 
merry-making out of town, one of them, during the 
carouse, called for so much wine, that, notwith- 
standing all Mr. Hale could do to prevent it, he 
went on in his excess till he fell down as dead be- 
fore them. All present were not a little terrified, 
and did all they could to bring him tohimself again. 
This particularly affected Mr. Hale, who went into 
another room, and shutting the door, fell on his 



60 ON BAD COMPANY. 

knees, and prayed earnestly to God, both for his 
friend, that he might again be restored to life, and 
that himself might be forgiven for having coun- 
tenanced such excesses. Moreover, he vowed to 
God, that he would never again keep company in 
that manner nor drink another health while he 
lived. His friend recovered, and Mr. Hale most 
religiously observed his vow till his dying day. It 
was this great man's resolution, drawn up by him 
in writing for his own private use, with regard to 
Company (among other articles of conduct), to 
" do good to them ; to use God's name reve- 
rently, while with them ; to beware of leaving an 
ill example among them; and to receive good 
from them, if they were more knowing than him- 
self." 

That ever memorable instance of God's mercy, 
Wilmot Earl of Rochester, was in early life always 
much given to riot and licentiousness. During 
his travels, however, and those scenes at sea in 
which he was soon after engaged, his mind being 
better occupied, he had so entirely laid down his 
former intemperance, that, at his return, we are 
informed, he detested it. But falling again into 
company that loved those excesses, he was, though 
not without difficulty, and by many steps, brought 
back to it, and that in a shocking degree : for the 
natural glow of his fancy being inflamed by 
wine, made him so extravagantly pleasant, that 
many, to be the more diverted by his humour, 
made it their study to engage him deeper and 
deeper in intemperance ; and this at length so en- 
tirely subdued him, that (as he told Dr. Burnet, 
his historian) for five years together he was con- 
tinually drunk : not, indeed, all the while under the 
visible effect of it ; but his blood was so inflamed, 
that he was not in all that time cool enough to be 



4 • 



ON BAD COMPANY. 61 

perfectly master of himself. This led him to say 
and do many wild and unaccountable things ; and 
by this, he said, he had broken the firm constitu- 
tion of his health, which once seemed so strong 
that nothing was too hard for it ; and he suffered so 
much in his reputation, that he almost despaired 
to recover it. This course of life, however, was 
not always equally pleasant to him. He had often 
sad intervals of severe reflection upon it : and 
though at that time he had not these awakened in 
him from any deep principle of religion, yet the 
horror which nature excited in him (especially in 
some sicknesses) made him too easy to receive 
those ill and sceptical principles with which others 
endeavoured to possess him ; so that he was soon 
brought to set himself to secure and fortify his 
mind against religion, by dispossessing himself all 
he could of the belief or apprehensions of it. To 
complete his ruin, the licentiousness of his temper, 
with the briskness of his wit, disposed him to love 
the conversation of those who divided their time 
between lewd actions and irregular mirth : and 
thus he came at last to bend his wit, and direct his 
studies and endeavours, to support and strengthen 
those evil principles both to himself and others. 
At length God was pleased in a very striking man- 
ner to bring him, by pain and sorrow, and strong 
conviction, to repentance ; during the course of 
which, he said to Bishop Burnet, " In what a con- 
dition shall I be, if I relapse after all this?" But 
added, " He trusted in the grace and goodness of 
God, and was resolved to avoid all those tempta- 
tions, that course of life, and company, that were 
so likely to ensnare him ; and he desired to live on 
no other account, but that he might, by the change 
of his manners, some way take off the high scan- 
dal his former behaviour had g;iven." This the 



62 ON BAD COMPANY. 

dying penitent uttered in various terms to his spi- 
ritual friend ; with other expressions to some of his 
former companions, which well became his state : 
giving them a charge to publish any thing con- 
cerning his conversion, which might be a means 
to reclaim others ; u and praying God, that, as 
his life had done much hurt, so his death might 
do some good." 

When Marius was sent against the Cimbri, his 
soldiers durst not look the enemy in the face : their 
gigantic stature and barbarous aspect awed the Ro- 
man bravery. But when they had beheld these 
same barbarous Germans three days together from 
the camp, their spirits revived, their congealed cou- 
rage began to circulate through every vein ; they 
not only fought, but overcame the foe they had so 
lately dreaded. Reverse the medal, and apply it to 
those connections in which the young and inexpe- 
rienced are daily enlisted to their hurt ; the effect 
is obvious and striking. A youth educated in the 
principles of Christianity, cannot at first think of 
the breach of a commandment without trembling 
and inward convulsion : but when he slides into 
seemingly trivial commissions, the associates of 
his unguarded hours strew every pitfall of pleasure 
with flowers. At first, a damp arises over his mind, 
and he almost inclines to doubt there is some error 
in his progress. He becomes uneasy for a while ; 
yet, urged by example, continues his course, and 
at length conscience begins to slumber : its re- 
proaches are faint, its stings scarcely perceptible ; 
custom blunts the edge of reflection ; and, when 
once arrived at this pitch of insensibility, he he- 
sitates not to many impieties, which before were 
abhorrent to his nature. So true is that ancient 
aphorism, " Nemo repente fuit turpissimus ;" No one 
becomes very wicked on a sudden Negligence 



ON BAD COMPANY. 63 

and distrust first unite to weaken the sacred sanc- 
tion of God's commands, before men can presume 
to break them. 

Eusebius was not one of those plodders who 
seem to disband all society, and to forswear con- 
versation ; who place virtue in sourness, and con- 
found piety with spleen : no ; he was free, easy, and 
cheerful ; and never refused to partake of those 
festivities which recreate the mind, and refresh 
the body, without prejudice to the conscience. 
He lamented in silent indignation, to behold Chris- 
tians living the lives of the lowest Pagans, and 
profaning the best religion with the foulest crimes, 
" What pleasure," w T ould he say, " can any Chris- 
tian take in those places where vice rides in tri- 
umph, and virtue groans in a dungeon ; where 
goodness and decency lie under contempt, and ir- 
regularity receives applause ; where thebest actions 
are lampooned, and the worst glossed over, or 
deified by their short-sighted votaries ? This 
consideration weaned Eusebius from the love of 
the world, and he withdrew into the country, there 
blending all the qualities of a gentleman so hand- 
somely with the duties of a Christian, that it was 
hard to judge whether his behaviour was more 
genteel, or more religious. He was wont to say 
" Those lie under a great mistake, who fancy that 
virtue is an enemy to good breeding ; that a man 
must turn off civility to become a saint ; and ex- 
clude himself from the society of ail men, in order 
to keep up a correspondence with his God. No," 
continued he, " Christianity makes men honest, 
indeed, but it does not make them clowns ; it for- 
bids grimace, but not sincerity ; and it puts a mean 
between foppishness and rusticity. Virtue smooths 
the brow as well as the conscience, and knows how 
to temperate innocent mirth with a seasonable 



64 ON BAD COMPANY. 

reservedness and decorum. So that we may, if 
we so incline, keep up to the height of our duty 
to God, without dropping our obligations to good 
neighbourhood, and abandoning the comforts of 
society." 

Mr. Nelson too, the learned and pious author 
of many excellent books of devotion, was, says 
Mr. Seward, in his ' Anecdotes/ peculiarly splen- 
did in his dress and appearance. He was not will- 
ing to render the practice of piety more difficult 
than was necessary : and, to attract mankind to 
goodness, submitted to embellish the charms of 
virtue by the graces of elegance. This gentleman 
is thought to have been the original from which 
Mr. Richardson drew the Character of Sir Charles 
Grandison. 



65 




The death-bed of Rochester. 



ON BAD BOOKS. 



SENTIMENTS. 



The flowers of eloquence, profusely poured 
O'er spotted vice, fill half the letter d world ; 
Wit, a true pagan, deifies the brute, 
And lifts our swine enjoyments from the mire : 
Can porters of genius exercise their page, 
And consecrate enormities with song ? 

Young. 



"Words," says Mr. Addison, "are the tran- 
script of those ideas which are in the mind of man : 
writing and printing are the transcript of words. 
As the Supreme Being has expressed, and, as it 
were, printed his ideas in the creation, men express 



66 ON BAD BOOKS. 

their ideasin books; which, by this great invention 
of latter ages, may last as long as the sun, and moon, 
and perish only in the general wreck of nature. 
Books are the legacies which a great genius leaves 
to mankind, and which are delivered down from 
generation to generation, as presents to the pos- 
terity of those who are yet unborn. Now, if writ- 
ings are thus durable," continues he, " and may 
pass from age to age, throughout the whole course 
of time, how careful should an author be of com- 
mitting any thing to print, that may corrupt pos- 
terity, and poison the minds of men with vice and 
error ! Writers of great talents, who employ their 
parts in propagating immorality, and seasoning 
vicious sentiments with wit and humour, are to be 
looked upon as the pests of society, and the enemies 
of mankind. They leave books behind them (as it 
is said of those who die in distempers, which breed 
an ill-will towards their own species) to scatter 
infection and destroy their posterity. — They act 
the counterparts of a Confucius or a Socrates ; 
and seem as it were sent into the world to deprave 
human nature, and sink into the condition of 
brutality." 

There are books whose immediate and direct 
tendency it is to serve the cause of immorality, 
and to be the foul vehicles of indecency, obscenity, 
and pollution. These are a kind of writings so 
impure and defiling, that it is scarcely possible to 
speak of them without incurring some degree of 
defilement; for who can touch pitch and be clean? 
And they are so prejudicial and obnoxious to all 
purity of mind, that the least share of virtue, I 
must believe, will be sufficient to render them 
odious and disgusting. Nor will you, if you have 
the least regard for religion, the least reverence 
for yourselves, ever be persuaded to degrade your 



ON BAD BOOKS. 67 

nature so much, as to peruse such infamous and 
detestable performances. 

It is, indeed, a melancholy reflection, that any 
such books should be extant among us ; it is me- 
lancholy to think that any of the human species 
should have so far lost all sense of shame, all feel- 
ings of conscience, as to sit down deliberately, and 
compile a work entirely in the cause of vice and 
immorality ; a work which r for aught they know, 
may serve to pollute the minds of millions, and 
propagate contagion and iniquity through genera- 
tions yet unborn ; living, and spreading its baneful 
effect, long after the unhappy hand which wrote it 
is mouldered into dust. 

The English language abounds with excellent 
w r riters in everv branch of useful and entertaining 
science : you will reap, from an attention to such 
authors, not only an increase of wisdom, but also 
of virtue, her fair companion ; and by these w r ill be 
introduced to an acquaintance with such happiness 
as vice never knew, as all the gayest scenes of 
immorality could never afford. 

EXAMPLES. 

The Earl of Rochester, at a time when he lay 
dangerously sick, and had desired the assistance 
of a neighbouring curate, confessed to him with 
great contrition, that nothing sat more heavy at 
his heart, than the sense of his having seduced the 
age by his writings, and that their evil influence 
was likely to continue even after his death. The 
curate, upon further examination, finding the peni- 
tent in the utmost agonies of despair, and being 
himself a man of learning, told him, that he 
hoped his case was not so desperate as he appre- 
hended, since he found that he was so very sensi- 



68 ON BAD BOOKS. 

ble of his fault, and so sincerely repented of it. 
The penitent still urged the evil tendency of his 
book to subvert all religion, and the little ground 
of hope there could be for one, whose writings 
would continue to do mischief when his body was 
laid in ashes. The curate, finding no other way to 
comfort him, told him, " that he did well in being 
afflicted for the evil design with which he pub- 
lished his book, but that he ought to be very 
thankful that there was no danger of its doing any 
hurt ; that his cause was so very bad, and his argu- 
ments so weak, that he did not apprehend any ill 
effects from it : in short, that he might rest satis- 
fied, his performance could do no more mischief 
after his death, than it had done whilst he was 
living. To which he added, for his farther satis- 
faction, that he did not believe any, besides the 
author's particular friends and acquaintance, had 
ever been at the pains of reading it ; or that any 
body, after his death, would ever enquire after it." 

The atheistical writer, Lucretius, is reported, by 
two ancient authors, to have run mad, and to have 
killed himself. 

What a blessing to mankind, in himself, and in 
his writings, was the ingenious, humble, and pious 
Mr. Boyle ! What a common pest to society was 
the fallacious, proud, and impious Hobbes ! Ac- 
cordingly we find the former bade adieu to this 
world with the utmost serenity, honour, and hope ; 
while the other went out of it in the dark, with an 
odium on his name, as well as with terrible appre- 
hensions of an unknown future. He had been an 
instrument of the prince of darkness, in poisoning 
many young gentlemen and others with his wicked 
principles, as the late Earl of Rochester (hereto- 
fore mentioned) confessed with extreme grief 
in the hours of affliction. It is remarked by those 



ON BAD BOOKS. 69 

who critically observed the author of "The Le- 
viathan," that though, in a humour of bravado, he 
would speak very strange and unbecoming things 
of God, yet in his study, in the dark, and in his 
retired thoughts, he trembled before him. What 
could make this strange man awake in such ter- 
ror and amazement, if his candle happened to go 
out in the night, but that he was unable to bear 
the dismal reflections of his dissolute and gloomy 
mind, and because he neither knew how quite to 
extinguish, nor yet how to bear the light of con- 
science, that " candle of the Lord/' within him ? 
Many, alas ! appear like Atheists in their mirth, in 
wine, and company, who are quite of other senti- 
ments in sickness, and the gloom of solitude. 

How remarkably careful the ancients were of 
what books they let their children read, may be 
seen in that amiable writer, Rollin. Valerius 
Maximus, in particular, informs us, that the La- 
cedemonians commanded the books of the poet 
Archilochus to be removed from their city, as 
judging the reading of them highly improper for 
their youth, and subversive of decency and good 
manners. Thus that wise nation held in little es- 
teem the elegance and wit of his writings ; which, 
however they might refine the imagination, were 
but too likely to hurt the mind, and contaminate 
the principles of their children. 

On his death-bed the penitent earl of Rochester 
was (as we have just observed) touched with very 
strong compunction for the various indecencies he 
had diffused from his pen ; accordingly, we have 
seen how extremely solicitous he was, if it were 
possible, to suppress and stifle them, as suited only 
to serve the cause of vice and profaneness. He 
ingenuously declared, " that that absurd and fool- 
ish philosophy which the world had so much ad- 



70 ON BAD BOOKS. 

mired, as propagated by the late Mr. Hobbes and 
others, had undone him, and many more of the 
best talents of the nation :" while his sense of the 
past, and his hearty concern for the pious educa- 
tion of his children, made him wish, " that his son 
might never be a wit ; that is (as he himself ex- 
plained it) one of those w r retched creatures who 
pride themselves in abusing God and religion, and 
denying his being or his providence ; but rather 
that he might become an honest and religious 
man, which alone could render him the support 
and blessing of his family." 

Above all, he was remarkably hearty in his en- 
deavours to be serviceable to those about him. On 
which head, we cannot pass by that most fervent 
and passionate exclamation of his to a gentleman 
of some character, w 7 ho came to visit him in his last 
illness. " O remember," said he, ■* that you con- 
temn God no more ! He is an avenging God, and 
will visit you for your sins ! will, in mercy, I hope, 
touch your conscience sooner or later, as he has 
done mine ! You and I have been friends and 
sinners together a great while ! therefore I am the 
more free with you. We have been all mistaken 
in our conceits and opinions : our persuasions have 
been false and groundless ; therefore God grant 
you repentance !" And seeing the same gentle- 
man next day again, he said to him, " perhaps you 
we^e disobliged by my plainness to you yester- 
day : I spake the words of truth and soberness to 
you ;" and (striking his hand upon his breast with 
great emotion) said, " I hope God will touch your 
heart." 

There are, perhaps, few instances in all history 
that can parallel these keen convictions of an 
awakened mind. Dr. Young, in the celebrated 
work above quoted, observes, 



ON BAD BOOKS. 71 

" A death'bed's a detector of the heart : 
Truth is deposited zcith man's last hour, 
An honest hour, and faithful to her trust : 
Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die." 

Louis XIV. of France, who was not fond of 
books, asked Montausier, his son's tutor, why he 
was always reading, and what good it did him? 
" Sire/' replied he, " good books have the same 
effect upon my mind that the partridges your ma- 
jesty is so good as occasionally to send me have 
upon my body ; they support and nourish it." 



72 
CONVERSATION. 

SENTIMENTS. 

Let no corrupt communications proceed out of your 
mouth: but that which is good, to the use of 
edifying. 

Plutarch tells us, in few words, what an infinite 
advantage Alexander reaped from the fine taste 
wherewith his preceptor Aristotle inspired him, 
even from his tenderest infancy. "He loved/' 
says our author, " to converse with learned men ; 
to improve himself in knowledge ; and to study." 
Three sources these of a monarch's happiness, 
which enable him to secure himself from number- 
less difficulties ; three certain and infallible me- 
thods of learning to reign without the assistance 
of others. The conversation of persons of fine 
sense instructs a prince, as it were, in the way of 
amusement ; and teaches him a thousand curious 
and useful things without costing him the least 
trouble. The lessons inculcated by able masters 
impress and wonderfully improve, and furnish him 
with rules to govern his subjects with wisdom ; 
and, in fine, study, especially that of history, 
crowns the whole ; becomes to him a preceptor 
of all seasons, and for all hours ; that, without 
growing troublesome, acquaints him with truths 
which no one else dare to give him ; under fic- 
titious names exhibits him to himself; and teaches 
him to know, to feel, and to support his own cha- 
racter, as well as to investigate those of mankind, 
who are the same in all ages. 



CONVERSATION. 73 

It was Mr. Locke's peculiar art in conversation 
to lead people to talk of their own profession, or 
whatever they best understood. With a gardener 
he discoursed of gardening; with a jeweller, of 
diamonds ; with a chemist, of chemistry ; with a 
watchmaker, of clocks, watches, &c. " By this 
means," said he, "I please all those men who com* 
monly can speak pertinently upon nothing else. 
As they believe I have an esteem for their pro- 
fession, they are charmed with shewing their abi- 
lities before me ; and I, in the mean time, improve 
myself by their discourse." By thus putting 
questions to artificers, he would sometimes find 
out a secret in their art which they did not under- 
stand themselves ; and often give them views of 
the subject entirely new, which they put into 
practice w T ith advantage. In one of his letters, 
speaking of the advantages of conversation, he 
says, " There are scarcely any two men that have 
perfectly the same views of the same thing, till 
they come with attention, and perhaps with mu- 
tual assistance, to examine it; a consideration 
that makes conversation with the living much 
more desirable than consulting the dead." 

The faculty of interchanging our thoughts with 
one another, or what we express by conversation, 
has always been represented by moral writers as 
one of the noblest privileges of reason, and which 
more particularly sets mankind above the brute 
part of creation. Monsieur Varillas once told his 
friend, the author of the Menagiana, that out of 
every ten things he knew, he had learned nine in 
conversation. "And I too," says M. Menage, 
" can in a great measure declare the same." 

Of all the inconveniences attending the inter- 
course of mankind, slander and detraction are the 
most frequent, and in a very high degree odious 

E 



74 CONVERSATION. 

and detestable. We are told of St. Bernard, that 
when he was drawing near his end, he thus so- 
lemnly addressed himself to his brethren, as a 
dying man bequeathing legacies to his friends : 
" Three things I require you to keep and ob- 
serve ; which I remember to have kept to the best 
of my power, as long as I lived. 1. I have not 
willed to slander any person ; and if any have 
fallen, I have hid as much as possible. 2. I have 
ever trusted less to my own wit and understanding 
than to any other's. 3. If I were at any time 
hurt, harmed, or annoyed, I never wished venge- 
ance against the party who so wronged me." 

It is always a certain sign of an ill heart, to be 
inclined to defamation. This temper has ever 
been in the highest degree odious to gallant spirits, 
and ought to be scouted from every society of men. 
The Persian soldier, who was overheard reviling 
Alexander the Great, was well admonished by his 
officer in these memorable words : " Sir, you are 
paid to fight against Alexander, and not to rail 
at him." 

EXAMPLES. 

Cicero, in one of his pleadings, defending his 
client from general scandal, says very handsomely, 
and with much reason, " There are many who 
have particular engagements to the prosecutor ; 
there are many who are known to have ill will to 
him for whom I appear ; there are many who are 
naturally addicted to defamation, and envious of 
any good to any man, who may have contributed 
to spread reports of this kind ; for nothing is so 
swift as scandal ; nothing is more easily sent 
abroad ; nothing received with more welcome ; 
nothing diffuses itself so universally. I shall not 



CONVERSATION. 75 

desire, that if any report to our disadvantage has 
any ground for it, you would overlook or extenu- 
ate it ; but if there be any thing advanced without 
a person who can say whence he had it, or which 
is attested by one who forgot who told it him, or 
who had it from one of so little consideration, that 
he did not then think it worth his notice ; all such 
testimonies as these I know you will think too 
slight to have any credit against the innocence 
and honour of our fellow-citizen." What an ad- 
mirable rule and criterion of conversation is this! 
When an ill report is traced, it very often vanishes 
among such as the orator has here recited ; and 
how despicable a creature must that be who is in 
pain for what passes among so frivolous a people! 
Few have more happily expressed themselves 
on the topic in question than Epictetus. " Con- 
sider with yourself seriously," says he, ft what 
figure is most fit for you to make in the world ; 
and then fix upon a method and rule in order 
hereunto ; which be sure to observe most nicely, 
both at home alone, and abroad in company. At 
all public entertainments, and in mixed compa- 
nies, keep a strict guard upon yourself, lest you 
be infected with rude and vulgar conversation ; 
for know, that though a man be ever so clear 
himself, yet by frequenting company that are 
tainted, he will of necessity contract some pollu- 
tion from them. Above all things, take care not 
to talk of other people ; neither so as to censure 
their conduct, nor to be lavish in their commen- 
dation, nor to make invidious comparisons between 
one and another. In familiar conversation with 
your friends and acquaintance, do not make it your 
business to entertain the company with tedious 
narratives of yourself, and your own affairs. Con- 
sider that their sensations and yours are very dif- 



76 CONVERSATION. 

ferent upon these occasions ; and though the ex- 
ploits by which you have signalized yourself, the 
successes you have obtained, the dangers you 
have encountered, or the afflictions you have under- 
gone, may be a very agreeable story to yourself 
to tell, yet it will not be equally so for others to 
hear. As little will it become you to render your- 
self the common buffoon, and be always trying to 
make the company laugh, for this is a very nice 
and ticklish thing, exceedingly apt to degenerate 
into vice and folly ; and, observe it when you will, 
he that only studies men's diversion, shall be sure 
at the same time to lose their respect. Of all 
kinds of discourse, none is more unsafe, none 
more despicable, than that which breaks in upon 
modesty and good manners : whenever, therefore, 
any person in your presence flies out into obsce^ 
nity, if so great a liberty can decently be taken, 
reprove him publicly, and put a stop to the lewd 
talk. But, if that cannot conveniently be done, 
do yourself the justice to disapprove it : and, by 
forbearing to join with him, by blushing for him, 
and by chiding looks, let all the company see 
plainly that you detest his filthy ribaldry" 

Eusebius was a man of sense, politeness, and 
of unaffected piety ; it often shocked him to find, 
in the common intercourse of life, that Christians, 
to whom our Saviour has said, " Swear not at 
all," assumed a liberty of swearing by all things. 
A thousand good qualities in a person made no 
atonement in his opinion for this only bad one, 
and though he pitied those failures that savoured 
of weakness, he never gave quarter to blasphemy. 
" Other vices," said he, " make bold with God's 
commands ; this outrages his very person ; it adds 
insult to disobedience, and contempt to abuse : it 
is a symptom of absolute irreligion. For who will 



CONVERSATION. 77 

revile the very Being he adores, or rally and wor- 
ship the same object ? And what respect, satisfac- 
tion, or credit, can we expect to derive from him 
who turns upon his Creator, and flies in the face of 
the Omnipotent V 7 

Neander was an excellent soldier ; he feared 
nothing but fear; he always chose the van, and was 
often the first man on the breach. All admired 
his courage, and praised it; and even those who 
disapproved his conduct, did justice to his valour. 
This gentleman, however, unfortunately, managed 
it so as to lose at the table the glory he won in the 
field ; and by talking away in his winter-quarters, 
dissipated the honour he had purchased in the 
whole campaign. In short, he was a most insuf- 
ferable egotist. u I did this," said he, w at the 

siege of R , and this at the battle of D . 

Had I not seized on such a post at ***, the army 
had been in danger. One would have thought 
all the generals and soldiers had been in garrison, 
and that Neander, with his small brigade alone, 
had defeated the designs of the French. This 
overgrown vanity cost him dear; instead of gain- 
ing the reputation of a general, he went off with 
that of a fop : and all concluded that he was too 
ambitious of praise to deserve any. Deep rivers 
move with a silent majesty ; shallow brooks alone 
make a noise and tumult among the pebbles. 
The great Marshal de Turenne never spoke of 
himself but when forced, and even then with mo- 
desty : and though the king was wholly indebted 
to the wise conduct of this gallant man for many 
victories, yet Turenne never was the man to 
blazon it ; on the contrary, he would lay his mis- 
carriages at his own door, and success at that of 
his officers and soldiers. This made him appear 
great even in his overthrow ; and generally bis 



78 CONVERSATION. 

moderation was more glorious to him than victory. 
Sir Richard Steele observes, that there are some 
men who upon all occasions, and in all companies, 
talk in the same circle and round of chat as they 
have picked up in their daily peregrinations. " I 
remember," says he, " at a full table in the city, 
one of these ubiquitary wits was entertaining the 
company with a soliloquy (for so I call it when a 
man talks to those who do not understand him) 
concerning wit and humour. An honest gentle- 
man who sat next to me, and was worth half a 
plum, stared at him, and, observing there was 
some sense, as he thought, mixed with his imperti- 
nence, whispered me, " Take my word for it, 
this fellow is more knave than fool." This was all 
my good friend's applause of the wittiest man of 
talk that I was ever present with ; which wanted 
nothing to make it excellent, but that there was 
no occasion for it. 

The same ingenious author has the following 
remarks on loquacity. " I look upon a tedious 
talker, or what is generally known by the name of 
a story-teller," to be much more insufferable than 
even a prolix writer. An author may be tossed 
out of your hand, and thrown aside when he grows 
dull and tiresome ; but such liberties are so far 
from being allowed towards these orators in com- 
mon conversation, that I have known a challenge 
sent a person for going out of the room abruptly, 
and leaving a man of honour in the midst of a 
dissertation. The life of a man is too short for a 
story-teller. Methusalem might be half an hour 
in telling what o'clock it was : but for us post-dilu- 
vians, we ought to do every thing in haste ; and 
in our speeches, as well as actions, remember that 
our time is short. I would establish but one great 
general rule to be observed in all conversation ; 



CONVERSATION. 79 

which is this, u That men should not talk to please 
themselves, but those that hear them." This 
would make them consider whether what they 
speak be worth hearing; whether there be either 
wit or sense in what they are about to say ; and 
whether it be adapted to the time when, the place 
where, and the person to whom it is spoken. 

A certain celebrated nobleman, speaking of 
another, remarkable in conversation for his loqua- 
city and manner of address, observed, " that he 
was always too big for his company/' This fault 
is not a whit the less unpardonable for being so 
very common : it is neither good-natured, nor just, 
nor decent ; but the certain mark of a deficient 
judgment. Good-nature is more agreeable in 
conversation than wit, and gives a certain air to 
the countenance, which is more amiable than 
beauty. It shows virtue in the fairest light, takes 
off in some measure from the deformity of vice, 
and makes even folly and impertinence sup- 
portable. 

Zeno, the philosopher, being present when a 
person of a loquacious disposition played himself 
off, said, with an air of concern in his coun- 
tenance, " I perceive that poor gentleman is ill. 
He has a violent flux upon him.- The company 
was alarmed, and the rhetorician stopped in his 
career. " Yes," added Zeno, u the flux is so vio- 
lent, that it has carried his ears into his tongue. " 

The significance and importance of frivolous, 
trifling conversation, was smartly represented by 
a philosopher ; who, being asked how r he left the 
company employed, made answer, " some in 
milking the ram, others in holding the pail ;" in- 
timating thereby, that they were to the full as 
unprofitably employed. 

Of the o-reat Lord Bacon's mode of re^ulatinc: 



80 CONVERSATION. 

the conversation at his table, Mr. Seward has re- 
corded, (from an almost forgotten author^ the fol- 
lowing particulars : " He never took a pride," as 
is the humour of some, " in putting any of his 
guests, or those that discoursed with him, to the 
blush, but was ever ready to countenance their 
abilities, whatever they were. Neither was he 
one that would appropriate the discourse to him- 
self alone, but left a liberty to the rest to speak in 
their turns ; and he took pleasure to hear a man 
speak in his own faculty, and would draw him on 
and allure him to discourse upon different sub- 
jects : and for himself, he despised no man's ob- 
servations, but would light his torch at any man's 
candle." Again, Mr. Osborn, who knew Lord 
Bacon personally, in his " Advice to his Son," 
thus describes him : " Lord Bacon, Earl of St. Al- 
bans, in alleompanies did appear a good proficient 
(if not a master) in those arts entertained for the 
subject of every one's discourse ; so as I dare 
maintain, without the least affectation of flattery 
or hyperbole, that his most casual talk deserveth 
to be written, as I have been told that his first or 
foulest copies required no great labour to render 
them competent for the nicest judgments : a high 
perfection, attainable only by use, and treating 
with every man in his respective profession, and 
what he was most versed in. So as I have heard 
him entertain a country lord in the proper terms 
relating to hawks and dogs, and at another time 
outcant a London chirurgeon. Thus he did not 
only learn himself, but gratify such as taught him, 
who looked upon their callings as honourable 
through his notice. Nor did an easy falling into 
arguments (not unjustly taken for ablemishin the 
most) appear less than an ornament in him ; the 
ears of the hearers receiving more gratification 



CONVERSATION. 81 

than trouble, and (so) no less sorry when he came 
to conclude, than displeased with any that did 
interrupt him. Now this general knowledge he 
had in all things, husbanded by his wit, and dig- 
nified by somajestical a carriage he was known to 
own, struck such an awful reverence in those he 
questioned, that they durst not conceal the most 
intrinsic part of their mysteries from him, for fear 
of appearing ignorant or saucy ; all which ren- 
dered him no less necessary than admirable at the 
council table, where, in reference to impositions, 
monopolies, &c. the meanest manufactures were 
an usual argument, and (as I have heard) did in 
this baffle the Earl of Middlesex, that was born 
and bred a citizen, be. yet without any great (if 
at all) interrupting his other studies, as is not 
hard to be imagined of a quick apprehension, in 
which he was admirable." 






82 



DUELLING. 



SENTIMENT. 



Whoso sheddeth man's blood, by man shall his blood 
be shed. 

Perhaps there is not any word in the English 
language less understood than honour, and but 
few that might not have been equally mistaken, 
without producing equal mischief. Honour is 
both a motive and an end. As ie a principle of 
action," it differs from virtue only in degree, and 
therefore necessarily includes it, as generosity in- 
cludes justice ; and, as " a reward/' it can be de- 
served only by those actions which no other prin- 
ciple can produce. To say of another, " That he 
is a man of honour/' is at once to attribute the 
principle, and to confer the reward : but in the 
common acceptation of the word, honour, as a 
principle, does not include virtue ; and therefore, 
as a reward, is frequently bestowed upon vice. 
Hence (such is the blindness and vassalage of hu- 
man reason) men are discouraged from virtue by 
the fear of shame, and incited to vice by the hope 
of honour. Honour, indeed, is always claimed in. 
specious terms; but the facts, upon which the 
claim is founded, are often flagitiously wicked. 
Lothario arrogates the character of <f a Man of 
Honour/' for having defended a lady who had put 
herself under his protection from insult, at the 
risk of life ; and Aleator, for fulfilling an engage- 
ment, to which the law would not have obliged 



DUELLING. 83 

him at the expence of liberty. But the champion 
of the lady had first seduced her to adultery, and 
to preserve her from the resentment of her hus- 
band, had killed him in a duel ; and the martyr to 
his promise had paid a sum, which would have 
discharged the bill of a tradesman, to a gamester 
of quality, who had given him credit at cards i 
Such, in the common opinion, are " -Men of Ho- 
nour;" and he who, in certain circumstances, 
should abstain from murder, perfidy, or ingrati- 
tude, would be avoided, as reflecting infamy upon 
his company. Honour, as a principle, is the re- 
finement of virtue ; as an end, it is the splendor of 
reputation, the reward of such virtue: and the 
true man of honour is he, who, from the native 
excellence and real dignity of justice, goodness, 
and truth, is led to act at all times consistently 
with them ; ever reverencing his conscience and 
his character, and solicitous to fill up the great, 
the worthy part, far above the narrow restraint 
and coercion of the laws, or the fallible testi- 
mony of mere human judgment. And can it be 
supposed that a principle like this can ever allow, 
can ever justify, the hazarding our own, or tak- 
ing away the life of a brother, for a slight, nay, 
for the greatest affront imaginable? Can it be sup- 
posed that a principle like this can ever give rise 
to duels, or attain its great end and reward, a 
splendid reputation, in consequence of them ! 
Men, instigated by the meanest passions, with re- 
venge and guilt boiling in their hearts, preparing, 
by the pistol or the sw T ord, to finish each other's 
short and precarious existence; and to plunge the 
one, w r ith all his vices blossoming upon him, into 
awful eternity: the other to drag the miserable 
remains of life, haunted with the distracting con- 
sciousness of his brother's, his friends, perhaps 



84 DUELLING. 

his once dearest friends' murder upon his soul.— 
Perhaps he lives the sole hope and stay of some 
ancient and venerable house 5 and, after all the 
labour and anxiety of youthful education is past, 
is advancing on the great theatre of the world, 
the delight of his friends, and the solicitous expec- 
tation of his affectionate parents, who, in the de- 
cline of life, see with transport their youth renewed, 
and the hopes and honour of their family reflou- 
rishing in their beloved son. 

But dearer, tenderer ties still remain, to twine 
about the heart, to touch it with the keenest sen- 
sibility, and to preserve it from the seducing calls 
of false honour and romantic bravery. If thou 
wilt needs engage in the desperate duel, see, on 
one side, to unnerve thy wretched arm — honour, 
reason, humanity, religion, disavowing the deed ; 
and from what source then shall courage spring? 
And, on the other side, see the faithful and be- 
loved partner of thy bed, with streaming eyes, and 
anguish too great for utterance, pointing to the 
little pledges of your mutual affection, and with 
dumb, but expressive oratory, bewailing her 
widow r ed, and their orphan state ! 

EXAMPLES. 

Eugenio, in consequence of a quarrel with the 
illiberal and brutish Ventosus, received a chal- 
lenge from the latter, which he answered by the 
following billet : "■ Sir, your behaviour last night 
has convinced me that you are a scoundrel ; and 
your letter this morning that you are a fool. If 
I should accept your challenge, I should myself 
be both. I owe a duty to God and my country, 
which I deem it infamous to violate ; and I am 
intrusted with a life, which I think cannot, with- 



DUELLING. 85 

out folly, be staked against yours. I believe you 
have ruined, but you cannot degrade me. You 
may possibly, while you sneer over this letter, se- 
cretly exult in your own safety ; but remember, 
that to prevent assassination, I have a sword ; and 
to chastise insolence a cane." 

Forgiveness of injuries and a merciful disposi- 
tion towards those w T ho have offended us, is not 
only an infallible mark of a great and noble mind, 
but it is our indispensable duty as reasonable 
creatures, and peculiarly so as Christians. The 
following is a fine example of this virtue : Gaston, 
Marquis deRenty, an illustrious nobleman, was a 
soldier and a Christian ; and had the peculiar feli- 
city to reconcile the seeming opposition between 
those characters. He had a command in the 
French army, and had the misfortune to receive 
a challenge from a person of distinction in the 
same service. The marquis returned for answer, 
that he w 7 as ready to convince the gentleman that 
he was in the wrong; or, if he could not con- 
vince him, was as ready to ask his pardon. The 
other, not satisfied with this reply, insisted upon 
his meeting him with the sword; to which the 
marquis sent this answer : that he was resolved not 
to do it, since God and his king had forbidden it ; 
otherwise, he would have him know, that all the 
endeavours he had used to pacify him did not pro- 
ceed from any fear of him, but of Almighty God, 
and his displeasure : that he should go every day 
about his usual business, and, if he did assault 
him, he would make him repent it. The angry 
man, not able to provoke the marquis to a duel, 
and meeting him one day by chance, drew his 
sword and attacked him : the marquis soon wound- 
ed and disarmed both him and his second, with 
the assistance of a servant who attended him. But 



86 DUELLING. 

then did this truly Christian nobleman show the 
difference between a brutish and a Christian cou- 
rage ; for leading them to his tent, he refreshed 
them with wine and cordials, caused their wounds 
to be dressed, and their swords to be restored to 
them ; then dismissed them with Christian and 
friendly advice ; and was never heard to mention 
the affair afterwards even to his nearest friends. 
It was a usual saying with this great man, " that 
there was more true courage and generosity in 
bearing and forgiving an injury, for the love of 
God, than in requiting it with another : in suffer- 
ing, rather than revenging ; because the thing 
was really more difficult : adding, that bulls and 
bears had courage enough, but it was a brutal 
courage ; whereas that of men should be such as 
became rational beings and Christians." 

A quarrel having arisen between a celebrated 
gentleman in the literary world and one of his ac- 
quaintance, the latter heroically, and no less laco- 
nically, concluded a letter to the former, on the 
subject of the dispute, with, " I have a life at your 
service, if you dare to take it/' To which the 
other replied, " You say you have a life at my 
service if I dare to take it. I must confess to you, 
that I dare not take it : I thank my God, that I 
have not the courage to take it. But though I 
own that I am afraid to deprive you of your life, 
yet, Sir, permit me to assure you, that I am 
equally thankful to the Almighty Being, for mer- 
cifully bestowing on me sufficient resolution, if 
attacked, to defend my own." This unexpected 
kind of reply had the proper effect : it brought 
the madman back again to reason ; friends inter- 
fered, and the affair was compromised. 

Myrtle, a character in Steele's " Conscious Lo- 
vers," delivers the following j ust sentiments on this 



DUELLING. 87 

subject: " How many friends have died by the 
hands of friends, for the want of temper! There 
is nothing manly but what is conducted by reason, 
and agreeable to the practice of virtue and jus- 
tice ; and yet how many have been sacrificed to 
that idol, the unreasonable opinion of man ! 

" Betray' d by honour, and compelVd by shame, 
" They hazard being to preserve a name." 

Sir Walter Raleigh, a man of known courage 
and honour, being very injuriously treated by a 
hot-headed, rash youth, who next proceeded to 
challenge him, and, on his refusal, spit upon him, 
and that, too, in public ; the knight, taking out 
his handkerchief, with great calmness made him 
only this reply : " Young man, if I could as easily 
wipe your blood from my conscience, as I can this 
injury from my face, I would this moment take 
away your life." The consequence was, that the 
youth, struck with a sudden and strong sense of 
his misbehaviour, fell upon his knees, and begged 
forgiveness. 

The Turks, we are assured, suffer no such things 
as duels in their dominions, Busbequius tells us 
of a reproof given to a valiant man, by a bashaw 
of Constantinople, for boasting that he had chal- 
lenged his enemy, which is well worth the notice 
of every thinking Christian. " How durst thou," 
said he, •' challenge thy fellow-creature to a duel? 
What ! was there not a Christian to fight with ? 
Do not both of you eat the emperor's bread ? And 
yet, forsooth, you must go about to take away 
each other's lives ! What precedent had you for 
this ? Do not you know, that whoever of the twain 
had died, the emperor had lost a subject ?" Saying 
this, the challenger was immediately ordered to 



88 DUELLING. 

prison, where he lay pining many months, and was 
at last with difficulty released, and even then with 
the loss of his reputation. 

When any matter of difference had fallen out in 
Macedon, betwixt two persons who were notori- 
ously men of a turbulent and contentious temper, 
it was brought before King Philip, that he might 
determine it at his pleasure ; who is reported to 
have generally passed this exemplary sentence 
upon them : " You," said he to the one, " I com- 
mand immediately to run out of Macedon ; and 
you," turning to the other, " see that you make 
all imaginary haste after him :" thus banishing 
them, as pests, from the capital. " A good rid- 
dance," says our author, " of such salamanders as 
delight to live in the fire of contention ; commenc- 
ing sharp quarrels upon trivial accounts, and, 
withal, knowing no time wherein to end them. 7 ' 

It is no uncommon thing, with persons of duel- 
ling propensity, to make a very liberal, but inex- 
plicable, use of the term " Satisfaction/' An ho- 
nest country gentleman had the misfortune to fall 
into company with two or three modern men of 
honour, where he happened to be very ill treated. 
One of the company, being conscious of his of- 
fence, sent a note to him the next morning, telling 
him he was ready to give him satisfaction. " Why 
surely, now," says the plain, honest man, " this is 
fine doing : last night he sent me away very much 
out of temper; and this morning he fancies it 
would be a satisfaction to me to be run through 
the body!" 

The ancient Greeks and Romans never wore 
swords but in war ; neither were any duels ever 
fought amongst them. If they challenged one ano- 
ther, it was either a contest between rival princes, 
and to prevent a greater effusion of blood ; or else 



DUELLING. 89 

it was singly to fight against the enemies of their 
country. Caesar has given us a remarkable in- 
stance of this kind of challenge, in his excellent 
Commentaries. Two centurions of high rank, T. 
Pulfio and L. Varenus, having with great animo- 
sity long contested w T hich was the braver man, or 
most worthy of preferment, and being present at 
Caesar's camp when assaulted by the Gauls, the 
former, in the heat of the attack, called aloud to 
the latter, in these words : why should you remain 
in doubt, Varenus ? What fairer opportunity can 
you desire for the proof of your valour? — This, 
this shall be the day, to decide our controversies.'" 
Immediately on this spirited call, Pulfio went out 
of the camp and rushed upon the enemy. Varenus 
followed his rival, who, with his javelin, slew the 
first of the Gauls that engaged him ; but being 
attacked by a shower of darts, one of them pierced 
his shield, and stuck after such a manner inhisbelt, 
as prevented him from drawing his sword. The 
enemy presently surrounded him, thus encumbered 
and unable to defend himself. At this instant, 
Varenus came up to his assistance, slew one, and 
drove the rest before him ; but pursuing them too 
eagerly, he stepped into a hole, and fell down. 
Pulfio, who had now disencumbered himself from 
the dart, and draw r n his sword, came very season- 
ably to the rescue of Varenus ; with whom, after 
having slain many of the Gauls, he returned with 
safety and glory to the camp. Thus the Romans, 
we see, did not, in their private quarrels, sheath 
their swords in each other's breasts : contests of va- 
lour among them were only calls and incitements 
to the exertion of public and patriotic deeds. 

It is reported of the famous Viscount de Tu- 
renne, that, when he was a young officer, and at 
the siege of a fortified town, he had no less than 



90 DUELLING. 

twelve challenges sent him, all of which he put in 
his pocket, without farther notice : but being soon 
after commanded upon a desperate attack on some 
part of the fortifications, he sent a billet to each of 
the challengers, acquainting them that he had re- 
ceived their papers, which he deferred answering 
till a proper occasion offered, both for them and 
himself, to exert their courage for the king's ser- 
vice : that being ordered to assault the enemy's 
works the next day, he desired their company; 
when they would have an opportunity of signa- 
lizing their own bravery, and of being witnesses of 
his. We may leave the reader to determine, in 
this case, who acted most like a man of sense, of 
temper, and of true courage. 

When Augustus Csesar received a challenge 
from Mark Antony, in his decline of fortune, to 
engage him in single combat, he very calmly an- 
swered the bearer of the message, " If Antony is 
weary of his life, tell him, there are other ways of 
death besides the point of my sword ! " Now, 
who ever deemed this an instance of cowardice ? 
All ages have admired it as the act of a discreet 
and gallant man ; who sensible of his own im- 
portance, knew how to treat the petulant and 
vindictive humour of a discontented adversary 
with its deserved contempt. 

The following story, told by Mr. Seward, in his 
" Anecdotes/' places duelling in a truly ridiculous 
light, and is too humorous to be omitted in this 
work, in which it is our wish, at the same time, to 
amuse and to instruct : " General Guise, going 
over one campaign to Flanders, observed a young 
raw officer, who was in the same vessel with him ; 
and, with his usual humanity, told him that he 
would take care of him, and conduct him to Ant- 
werp, where they were both going ; which he ac- 



DUELLING. 91 

cordingly did, and then took leave of him. The 
young fellow was soon told, by some arch rogues, 
whom he happened to fall in with, that he must 
signalize himself by fighting some man of known 
courage, or else he would soon be despised in the 
regiment. The young man said he knew no one 
but Colonel Guise, and he had received great 
obligations from him. It was all one for that, 
they said, in these cases ; the colonel was the 
fittest man in the world, as every man knew his 
bravery. Soon afterwards, up comes the young 
officer to Colonel Guise, as he was walking up 
and down in the coffee house, and began, in a 
hesitating manner, to tell him how much obliged 
he had been to him, and how sensible he was of 
his obligations. " Sir," replied Colonel Guise, 
" I have done my duty by you, and no more." 
" But, Colonel," added the young officer, faul- 
tering, " I am told that I must fight some gen- 
tleman of known courage, and who has killed 
several persons ; and that nobody — " " Oh, Sir," 
replied the colonel, c ? your friends do me too 
mi>ch honour ; but there is a gentleman," point- 
ing to a fierce-looking, black fellow, that was sit- 
ting at one of the tables, " who has killed half the 
regiment" So up goes the officer to him, and 
tells him he is well informed of his bravery, and 
that, for that reason, he must fight him. " Who, 
I, Sir?" replied the gentleman: "Why, I am 
Peal, the Apothecary. 



92 



ON ENVY. 

SENTIMENTS. 

Me who filches from me my good name, enriches not 
himself] but makes me poor indeed. 

Envy is almost the only vice which is practica- 
ble at all times, and in every place ; the only pas- 
sion which can never lie quiet for want of irrita- 
tion ; its effects are therefore every where disco- 
verable, and its attempts always to be dreaded. 

It is impossible to mention a name, which any 
advantageous distinction has made eminent, but 
some latent animosity will burst out. The weal- 
thy trader will never want those, who hint, with 
Shylock, that ships are but boards, and that no 
man can properly be termed rich, whose fortune 
is at the mercy of the winds. The beauty pro- 
vokes, whenever she appears, a thousand murmurs 
of detraction and whispers of suspicion. The ge- 
nius suffers persecution from innumerable critics, 
whose acrimony is excited merely by the pain of 
seeing others pleased, of hearing applauses which 
another enjoys. 

The frequency of envy makes it so familiar, that 
it escapes our notice ; nor do we often reflect 
upon its turpitude or malignity, till we happen to 
feel its influence. When he that has given no 
provocation to malice, but, by attempting to ex- 
cel in some useful art, finds himself pursued by 
multitudes whom he never saw with implacability 
of personal resentment ; when he perceives cla- 



ON ENVY. 93 

mour and malice let loose upon him as a public 
enemy, and incited by every stratagem of defama- 
tion; when he hears the misfortunes of his fa- 
mily, or the follies of his youth, exposed to the 
world ; and every failure of conduct, or defect of 
nature, aggravated and ridiculed ; he then learns 
to abhor those artifices, at which he only laughed 
before, and discovers how much the happiness of 
life would be advanced, by the eradication of envy 
from the human heart. 

It is above all other vices, inconsistent with the - 
character of a social being, because it ss 
truth and kindness to very weak temptations. He 
that plunders a wealthy neighbour, gains as muj~ 
as he takes away, and improves his own cot 
in the same proportion as he impairs another's; 
but he that blasts a flourishing reputation, must 
be content with a small dividend of addition^ 
fame; so small, as can afford very little consola- 
tion to balance the guilt by which it is obtained. 

Plutarch compares envious persons to cupping- 
glasses, which ever draw the worst humours of the 
body to them : they are like flies, which resort 
only to the raw and corrupt parts of the body ; or, 
if they light on a sound part, never leave blowing 
upon it till they have disposed it to putrefaction. 
When Momus could find no fault with the face in 
the picture of Venus, he picked a quarrel with her 
slippers : and so these malevolent persons, when 
they cannot blame the substance, will yet repre- 
sent the circumstance of men's best actions with 
prejudice. This black shadow is still observed to 
wait upon those that have been the most illustrious 
for virtue, or remarkable for some kind of perfec- 
tion : and to excel in either has been made an un- 
pardonable crime. 



94 ON ENVY. 



EXAMPLES, 



Mutius, a citizen of Rome, was noted to be of 
such an envious and malevolent disposition, that 
Puhlius one day, observing him to be very sad, 
said, " Either some great evil has happened to 
Mutius, or some great good to another." 

" Dionysius, the tyrant," says Plutarch, '* out of 
envy punished Philoxenus, the musician, because 
he could sing; and Plato, the philosopher, because 
he could dispute better than himself." 

In the reign of Tiberius Caesar, there was a por- 
tico at Rome that bowed outwards on one side 
very much. A certain architect undertook to set 
it right and straight ; he underpropped it every 
way on the upper part, and bound it about with 
thick cloths, and the skins and fleeces of sheep ; 
and then, with the help of many engines, and a 
multitude of hands, he restored it to its former 
uprightness, contrary to the opinion of all men. 
Tiberius admired the fact, and envied the man 5 so 
that, though he gave him money, he forbade his 
name to be inserted in the annals, and afterwards 
banished him the city. This famous artificer af- 
terwards presented himself in the presence of Tibe- 
rius, with a glass he had privily about him ; and 
while he implored the pardon of Tiberius, he 
threw the glass against the ground ; which was 
bruised, and crushed together, but not broke, and 
which he readily put into its first form : hoping, 
by this act, to have gained his good favour and 
grace. But Tiberius's envy still encreased, so that 
he caused him to be slain : adding, that if this art 
of malleable glass should be practised, it would 
make gold and silver but cheap and inconsidera- 
ble things. Nor would he suffer his name to be 
put in the records. 



ON ENVY. 95 

Maximianus the tyrant, through envy of the 
honours conferred on Constantine, and the virtues 
attributed to him by the people, contrived all that 
a desperate envy could invent, and a great virtue 
surmount. He first made him general of an army, 
which he sent against the Sarmatians, supposing 
he would there lose his life. The young prince 
went thither, returned victorious, leading along 
with him the barbarian king in chains. On his 
return from this battle, the tyrant engaged him 
in a perilous encounter with a lion which he pur- 
posely had caused to be let loose upon him. But 
Constantine, victorious over lions as well as men, 
slew him with his own hand, and impressed an in- 
comparable opinion in the minds of his soldiers, 
which easily gave him a passage to the throne, by 
the same degrees and means which were prepared 
for his ruin. 

N arses the eunuch w r as of the bed-chamber to 
Justinus the emperor ; and, from a seller of paper 
and books, arrived to the honour of succeeding 
the famous Belisarius, in the place of general- 
issimo. After he had distinguished himself by a 
thousand gallant actions, at last, through envy, or 
his ill fortune, or the accusation of the people, he 
fell under the hatred of the emperor Justinus and 
his empress, insomuch that the emperor sent him 
letters full of disgrace and reproach, advising him 
to return to the spindle and distaff. Narses was 
so incensed at this, that he swore he would weave 
them such a web as they should not easily undo 
again : and, thereupon, to revenge the injury he 
conceived to be done him, he called in the Lom- 
bards to the invasion of the Roman territories, 
(which they had been long desirous of, but had 
hitherto been restrained by himself), and was the 
occasion of many miseries. 



96 ON ENVY. 

Alexander the Great, being recovered of a wound 
he had received, made a great feast for his friends ; 
amongst whom was Coragus, a Macedonian, a 
man of great strength, and renowned for his 
valour ; who, being heated with wine, challenged 
Dioxippus, the Athenian, a wrestler, and who had 
been crowned for many victories. It was accepted, 
and the king himself appointed the day. Many 
thousands were met, and the two champions came 
to the place : Alexander himself, and the Mace- 
donians, with their countryman ; and the Grecians 
with their Dioxippus, naked and armed only with 
a club. Coragus, armed at all points, being at 
some distance from his enemy, threw a javelin at 
him, which the other nimbly declined ; then he 
sought to wound him with a long spear, which the 
other broke in pieces with his club : hereupon he 
drew his sword ; but his nimble and strong adver- 
sary leaped upon him, threw him to the ground, 
set his foot upon his neck, advanced his club, and 
looked on the spectators, as enquiring if he should 
strike ; when Alexander commanded to spare him : 
so the day ended with great glory to Dioxippus. 
But the king departed, and, from that day forward, 
his mind was alienated from the victor. He fell 
also into the envy of the court, and all the Mace- 
donians ; who, at the feast, privily put a gold cup 
under his seat, made a feigned and public enquiry 
after it, and then pretended to find it with him : 
a concourse was about him, and the man, afflicted 
with shame, departed. When he came to his inn, 
he sent a letter to Alexander, by his friends, 
wherein he related his innocency, and shewed the 
envious villany that had been used to him ; and 
that done, he slew himself. Alexander, upon 
notice of it, lamented him dead, whom he himself, 
as well as others, had envied while alive. 



ON ENVY. 97 

When Richard the First and Philip of France 
were fellow-soldiers together, at the siege of Aeon, 
in the Holy Land, and Richard had approved him- 
self to be the more valiant man, insomuch that all 
men's eyes were fixed upon him, it so galled the 
heart of King Philip, that he was scarcely able to 
bear the glory of Richard, but cavilled at all his 
proceedings, and fell at length to open defiance : 
nor could he contain any longer ; but out of very 
envy, hasting home, he invaded his territories, 
and proclaimed open war. 

When Aristides, so remarkable for his inviolable 
attachment to justice, was tried by the people at 
Athens, and condemned to banishment, a peasant, 
who was unacquainted with the person of Aris- 
tides, applied to him to vote against Aristides, 
" Has he done you any wrong," said Aristides, 
u that you are for punishing him in this manner?" 
" No," replied the countryman : " I don't even 
know him ; but I am tired and angry with hearing 
every one call him the just," 



98 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME, 



SENTIMENTS. 

Go to the ant, thou sluggard; consider her ways, 
and be wise ; which having no guide, overseer, or 
ruler, provideth her meat in the summer, and 
gathereth her food in the harvest. 

Epictetus has a fine chapter to inculcate the 
improvement of our time and talents. " Remem- 
ber/' says he, " that the world is a theatre, and 
that your part in this drama of life is determined 
by the poet. Upon him it must depend, whether 
you shall act a long or short one ; whether your 
character shall be high or low. If, therefore, he 
assign to you that of a beggar, take care to fill it 
well ; if a cripple, or a prince, or a private obscure 
man, or whatever it be, make the best of it. For 
consider, that the acting of the part assigned you 
commendably, depends upon yourself; this is 
your business ; but the giving out of the parts, 
and choosing the actors, is not your's,but another's 
province. 

To be idle and unemployed, is a sign not only 
of a weak head, but of a bad heart. And as it is 
one vile abuse of time, which is given us for ac- 
tion, and action of the utmost moment, so it is one 
sure method to lead us to other and worse abuses. 
For he who is idle, and wholly unoccupied, will, 
ere long, without question, be occupied in mis- 
chief. You must, therefore, take care that you 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 99 

employ your time ; but then you must take as 
much care to employ it innocently : and by in- 
nocent employment is meant all the proper duties 
of your station, and all those inoffensive and short 
relaxations, which are necessary either to the 
health of your bodies or to the enlivening andin- 
vigorating your minds. You must be anxious to 
employ it in the best and noblest uses, in subser- 
viency to your own eternal welfare ; that is, with 
a constant eye to the glory of God, and the good 
of mankind ; for herein consists our duty, and for 
this end was all our time given us. 

EXAMPLES, 

" We all complain of the shortness of time," 
says Seneca, " and yet have much more than 
we know what to do with. Our lives are either 
spent in doing nothing at all, or in doing nothing 
to the purpose, or in doing nothing that we ought 
to do. We are always complaining that our days 
are few, and acting as though there would be no 
end of them." In short, that noble philosopher 
has described our inconsistency with ourselves, 
in this particular, by all those various turns of 
expression, and thought which are peculiar to his 
writings. 

It was a memorable practice of Vespasian, the 
Roman emperor, throughout the course of his 
whole life : he calls himself to an account every 
night for the actiorts of the past day ; and as often 
as he found he had slipped any one day without 
doing some good, he entered upon his diary 
this memorandum, " Diem perdidi : I have lost 
a day." 

The excellent education which the younger Sci- 
pio had received, under his father Paulus iEmi- 



100 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

lius, and from the instructions of Polybius, per- 
fectly qualified him to fill his vacant hours with 
advantage, and afterwards to support the leisure 
of a retired life with pleasure and dignity. " No- 
body/' says a valuable historian, M knew better 
how to mingle leisure and action, nor to employ 
the intervals of public business with more ele- 
gance and taste. Divided between arms and the 
muses, between the military labours of the camp' 
and the peaceful speculations of the closet, he 
either exercised his body in the perilous fatigues 
of war, or his mind in the study of the sciences." 
His predecessor, (and grandfather by adoption,) 
the illustrious Scipio Africanus, used to say, 
" that he was never less idle, than when he was 
entirely at leisure ; nor less alone than when he 
was wholly by himself:" a very uncommon turn 
of mind in those who have been accustomed to 
the hurry of business, who too generally sink, 
at every interval of leisure, into a kind of melan- 
choly nausea, and a listless disgust for every 
thing about them. 

Alfred the Great was one of the wisest, the 
best, and most beneficent monarchs that ever 
swayed the sceptre of this realm; and his exam- 
ple is highly memorable. '* Every hour of his life 
had its peculiar business assigned it. He divided 
the day and night into three portions of eight 
hours each ; and, though much afflicted with a 
very painful disorder assigned only eight hours 
to sleep, meals, and exercise ; devoting the re- 
maining sixteen, one half to reading, writing, and 
prayer, and the other to public business ;" so 
sensible was this great man that time was not a 
trifle to be dissipated, but a rich talent entrusted 
to him, and for which he was accountable to the 
great dispenser of it. 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 101 

We are told of Queen Elizabeth, that, except 
when engaged by public or domestic affairs, and 
the exercises necessary for the preservation of her 
health and spirits, she was always employed in 
either reading or writing, in translating from 
other authors, or in compositions of her own ; and 
that notwithstanding she spent much of her time 
io reading the best authors of her own and former 
ages, yet she by no means neglected that best of 
books, the bible ; for proof of which, take her 
own words : "I walk/' says she, "many times in 
the pleasant fields of the Holy Scriptures, where 
I plucke up the goodlisome herbes of sentences 
by pruneing ; eat them by reading ; digest them 
by musing; and laie them up at length in the hie 
seate of memory, by gathering them together ; 
that so having tasted their sweetness, I may the 
less perceive the bitterness of life." 

Gassendi, the celebrated philosopher, was, per- 
haps, one of the hardiest students that ever existed. 
In general, he rose at three o'clock in the morning, 
and read or w T rote till eleven, when he received the 
visits of his friends. He afterwards, at twelve, 
made a very slender dinner, at which he drank 
nothing but water, and sat down to his books 
again at three. There he remained till eight 
o'clock, when, after having eaten a very light 
supper, he retired to bed at ten o'clock. Gassendi 
was a great repeater of verses in the several lan- 
guages with which he was conversant. He made 
it a rule every day to repeat six hundred. He 
could repeat six thousand Latin verses, besides all 
Lucretius, which he had by heart. He used to 
say, u that it is with the memory as with all other 
habits. Do you wish to strengthen it, or prevent 
its being enfeebled, as it generally happens when 
a man is growing old, exercise it continually, and 



102 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

in very early life get as many fine verses by heart 
as you can : they amuse the mind, and keep it in 
a certain degree of elevation, that inspires dignity 
and grandeur of sentiment." The principles of 
moral conduct that he laid down for the direction 
of his life, were to know and fear God : not to be 
afraid of death : and to submit quietly to it when 
ever it should happen : to avoid idle hopes, as well 
as idle fears ; not to defer, till to-morrow, any in- 
nocent amusement that may take place to-day : to 
desire nothing but what is necessary : to govern 
the passions by reason and good sense. 

When Socrates, in Plato's Phsedo, has proved 
the immortality of the soul, he considers it as a 
necessary consequence of the belief thereof, "that 
w T e should be employed in the culture of our minds : 
in such care of them as shall not only regard that 
term to which we give the name of life, but also 
the whole which follows it ; in making ourselves 
as wise and good as may be : since on it our safety 
entirely depends ; the soul carrying hence nothing 
with it but its good or bad actions, its virtues or 
vices ; and these constitute its happiness or misery 
to all eternity/' How might many a Christian red- 
den to think that this is the language of a Pagan 
mind ; a mind unenlightened with the bright 
splendours of gospel truth, and equally ignorant 
of a Saviour's merits, and of a Saviour's example ! 

Seneca, in his letters to Lucilius, assures him 
that there was not a day in which he did not either 
write something, or read and epitomize some good 
author : and Pliny, in like manner, giving an ac- 
count of the various methods he used to fill up 
every vacancy of time, after several employments 
which he enumerates, observes, " Sometimes I 
hunt; but even then I carry with me a pocket- 
book that, while my servants are busied in dis- 



EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 103 

posing the nets and other matters, I may be em- 
ployed in something that may be useful to me in 
my studies ; and that, if I miss my game, I may at 
least bring home some of my thoughts with me, 
and not have the mortification of having caught 
nothing. 

Augustus Csesar, a few moments before his 
death, asked his friends, who stood by him, if they 
thought he had acted his part well ; and upon re- 
ceiving such an answer as was due to his merit, 
fi Let me then," said he, " go off the stage with 
your applause ;" using the expression with which 
the Roman actors made the exit at the conclusion 
of a dramatic piece. 

" Among the Indians/' says Apuleius, u there is 
an excellent set of men, called Gymnosophists. 
These I greatly admire; though not as skilled in 
propagating the vine, or in the arts of grafting or 
agriculture. They apply not themselves to till the 
ground, to search after gold, to break the horse, 
to tame the bull, to shear or feed sheep or goats. 
What is it, then, that engages them ? One thing 
preferable to all these. Wisdom is the pursuit, as 
well of the old men, the teachers, as of the young, 
their disciples. Nor is there any thing among 
them that I do so much praise, as their aversion 
to sloth and idleness. When the tables are over- 
spread, before the meat is set on them, all the 
youths, assembling to their meal, are asked by 
their masters, in what useful task they have been 
employed in from sun-rise to that time ? One re- 
presents himself as having been an arbitrator, and 
succeeded by his prudent management in com- 
posing a difference ; in making those friends who 
were at variance. A second had been paying 
obedience to his parents' commands. A third 
had made some discovery by his own application. 



104 EMPLOYMENT OF TIME. 

or learnt something by another's instruction. The 
rest gave an account of themselves in the same 
way. He who has done nothing to deserve a -din- 
ner, is turned out of doors without one, and ob- 
liged to work, while the others enjoy the fruits of 
their application. 

How beautifully simple, yet forcible, is the fol- 
lowing account of the futility of those merely sen- 
sual pursuits, which have occupied the time and 
attention of those we have been accustomed to 
call the Great ! In the book of Maccabees, we 
read, that ft Alexander, son of Philip the Mace- 
donian, made many wars, took many strong holds, 
went through the ends of the earth, took spoils 
of many nations : the earth was quiet before him. 
After these things, he fell sick, and perceived 
that he should die." 



105 



FRIENDSHIP. 

SENTIMENT. 

Then is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother. 

Friendship is that peculiar relation which is 
formed by a consent and harmony of minds, by 
mutual esteem, and reciprocal tenderness and af- 
fection. Friendship is to be considered as a rare 
and singular blessing, vouchsafed, perhaps, to 
few ; but, when vouchsafed, one of the most ex- 
quisite cordials in human life. Multitudes are 
unqualified for a constant and warm friendship. 
Some, ardent enough in their benevolence, and 
defective neither in officiousness nor liberality, 
are mutable and uncertain ; soon attracted by new 
objects, disgusted without offence, and alienated 
without enmity. Others are soft and flexible ; 
easily influenced by reports and whispers ; ready 
to catch alarms from every dubious circumstance, 
and to listen to every suspicion w T bich envy and 
flattery shall suggest ; to follow the opinion of 
every confident adviser, and move by the impulse 
of the last breath. Some are impatient of contra- 
dictions ; more willing to go wrong by their own 
judgment, than to be indebted for a better or a 
safer way to the sagacity of another ; inclined to 
consider counsel as insult, and enquiry as want of 
confidence ; and to confer their regard on no other 
terms than unreserved submission and implicit 
compliance. Some are dark and involved, equally 
careful to conceal good and bad purposes ; and 

f2 



106 FRIENDSHIP* 

pleased with producing effects by invisible means, 
and showing their design only in its execution. 
Others are universally communicative, alike open 
to every lie, and equally profuse of their own 
secrets and those of others ; without the necessary 
vigilance of caution, or the honest art of prudent 
integrity : ready to accuse without malice, and to 
betray without treachery. Any of these may be 
useful to the community, and pass through the 
world with the reputation of good purposes and un- 
corrupted morals ; but they are unfit for close and 
tender intimacies. He cannot properly be chosen 
for a friend, whose kindness is exhaled by its own 
warmth, or frozen by the first blast of slander. He 
cannot be a useful counsellor who will hear no 
opinion but his own. He will not much invite 
confidence, whose principal maxim is to suspect : 
nor can the candour and frankness of that man be 
much esteemed, who spreads his arms to human 
kind, and makes every man, without distinction, 
a denizen of his bosom. 

Entire friends are like two souls in one body : 
they can give or receive nothing ; all is common 
between them. 

The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend, 
as to find a friend worth dying for. 

The friendship thiet is formed insensibly, and 
without professing much, is generally lasting. 

He who can pride himself upon an extensive 
acquaintance, is incapable of true friendship, 
Nothing tends more to unfaithfulness, than dis- 
trust : to doubt a friend, is to lose him. Believe 
a man honest, and you make him so. 

examples. 

At the siege of Bridgenorth Castle, in the reign 



FRIENDSHIP. 107 

of Henry II. which was defended by Roger de 
Mortimer, the king exposed himself to so much 
danger, that he would have been slain, if a faithful 
vassal had not preferred his sovereign's life to his 
own. For, while he was busied in giving orders 
too near the wall, Hubert de St. Clare, constable, 
or governor, of Colchester Castle, who stood by 
his side, seeing an arrow aimed at Henry by one 
of Mortimer's archers, stepped before him, and 
received it in his own breast. The wound was 
mortal : he expired in the arms of his master, re- 
commending his daughter (an only* child, and an 
infant) to the care of that prince. It is hard to 
say which most deserves admiration ; a subject, 
who died to save his king, or a king, whose per- 
sonal virtues could render his safety so dear to a 
subject whom he had not obliged bv anv extra- 
ordinary favours. The daughter of Hubert was 
educated by Henry, with all the affection that he 
owed to the memory of her father ; and, when she 
had attained to maturity, was honourably married 
to William de Longueville, a nobleman of great 
distinction, on condition of his taking the name 
of St. Clare, which the grateful Henry was desi- 
rous to perpetuate. 

Monsieur Sedaine informs us, that a certain 
gentleman of rank lost a friend, who at his death 
left debts unpaid, and two children very young. 
The surviving friend was immediately observed to 
retrench his household, his equipage, and take 
lodgings in a small house : from whence he walked 
every day to the palace, followed by one footman, 
and performed the duties of his post. He was 
instantly suspected of avarice, and of bad con- 
duct, and underwent a variety of calumnies. At 
the end of two years* however, he re-appeared in 
the world, having accumulated the sum of 20,000 



108 FRIENDSHIP. 

livres ; which he applied to the service of his de- 
ceased friend's children, and thus rescued a wor- 
thy memory from shame, and a helpless offspring 
from misery and ruin. It is a pity the author had 
not informed us of the name of a man whose 
conduct is so honourable to friendship and hu- 
manity. 

This heroic action recals to mind another some- 
what like it, which is recorded in history. Euda- 
midas of Corinth, a very poor man, drawing near 
his end, his mother and daughter were thereby 
threatened with indigence and distress. He, how- 
ever, was no way alarmed at the news : but judg- 
ing of the hearts of Aretseus and Charixenes, his 
wealthy and faithful friends, by his own, just at 
the point of death, he made this memorable will-: 
-• I bequeath to Aretseus, the maintenance of my 
mother, and her support under old age ; and to 
Charixenes, I bequeath and appoint the disposal 
of my daughter in marriage, and giving her the 
best dower in his power to bestow : and in case 
either of my said two friends should happen to 
die, then I substitute the survivor to perform that 
which the other should have done had he lived." 
This testament being read, they who knew the po- 
verty of Eudamidas, but not his connection with 
the legatees, looked upon the whole matter as a 
piece of pleasantry, and went out laughing at the 
legacies assigned them. But the latter, as soon 
as they heard of it, immediately came, acknow- 
ledged, and solemnly ratified what was enjoined 
them in the will. Charixenes, however, we are 
informed, died within a few days after; upon 
which Aretseus, his excellent successor, took upon 
him the two-fold charge ; kept the mother of 
Eudamidas with a tender and filial care ; and in 
due time married off the daughter of the deceased 



FRIENDSHIP. 109 

the same day with his own daughter, and gave her 
an equal portion of his effects. The celebrated 
Nicholas Poussin's pencil has immortalized this 
great action; painting Eudamidas at the moment 
when life seems expiring, and he is dictating this 
memorable last will. 

Eminently pleasing and heroic was the friend- 
ship of David and Jonathan: I am distressed for 
thee, my brother Jonathan, says the plaintive and 
surviving David ; very pleasant hast thou been to 
me ; thy love to me zcas wonderful ; passing the love 
of women. 

The very ingenious and amiable Bishop Berkley, 
of Cloyne, in Ireland, was so entirely contented 
with his income in that diocese, that, when offered 
by the Earl of Chesterfield, then lord lieutenant, a 
bishoprick much more beneficial than that he pos- 
sessed, he declined it with these words, " I love 
my neighbours, as they love me : why then should 
I begin in my old days to form new connections, 
and tear myself from those friends whose kindness 
is to me the greatest happiness I enjoy?" Acting 
in this instance like the celebrated Plutarch, who 
being asked why he resided in his native city, so 
obscure and so little, " I stay," said he, " lest it 
should grow less." 

At the battle of Roucoux, in 1746, a Serjeant 
of the regiment of Flanders, named Vidal, giving 
his arm to the prince of Monaco, who was wound- 
ed, in order to lead him to a place of safety, had 
that very arm broken to pieces by a musket ball. 
Without betraying the least emotion, this daunt- 
lesss hero only changed his arm, saying, " Take 
this, my prince ; the other is now good for no- 
thing. 5 ' 

Psammenitus, king of Egypt, was taken prisoner 
by Cambyses, and carried out of his own kingdom 



110 FRIENDSHIP. 

into Persia. The victor, more keenly to insult and 
afflict their wretched parents, ordered the young 
princess, Psammenitus's daughter, and all the other 
young ladies of quality whom he had brought 
captive, to go dressed in the habit of slaves, carry- 
ing water upon their backs. Whilst the rest of 
the Egyptians were quite distracted at this spec- 
tacle, Psammenitus remained very calm, with his 
eyes fixed upon the ground. Soon after, Camby- 
ses ordered his son, the young Egyptian prince, 
with several of the young noblemen his compa- 
nions, to be led forth tied together by the necks, 
and bridled like horses, with bits in their mouths. 
Psammenitus, upon this additional shock, was the 
only person who refrained from tears : but hap- 
pening to espy a certain familiar friend of his go 
about begging, in a naked starving condition, 
upon calling to his friend, he burst into a flood of 
tears, beating his head after the manner of the 
barbarians. Cambyses, hearing the singularity of 
his behaviour, demanded to know the reason why 
he remained silent and unmoved upon viewing the 
calamity of his children, and was all on a sudden 
so much afflicted at seeing the distresses of a poor 
old man. " Oh, son of Cyrus," answered Psam- 
menitus, " domestic miseries, arrived to this vio- 
lent height, are more grievous than to admit of 
tears : but to see my friend reduced from a state 
of ease and affluence to this extremity of distress 
and want, in the very verge of life, this is an object 
that commands my tears." 

When Dean Swift was at Arthur Acheson's, at 
Market Hill, in the county of Armagh, an old 
gentleman was recommended to him, as having 
been a remarkable loyalist in the reigns of Charles 
II. James II. and William III. who had behaved 
with great loyalty and bravery in Scotland during 



FRIENDSHIP. Ill 

the troubles of those reigns, but was neglected by 
the government, although he deserved great re- 
wards from it. As he was reduced in his circum- 
stances, the dean made him a handsome present ; 
but said at the same time, " This trifle, Sir, can- 
not support you long, and your friends may grow 
tired of you; therefore I would have you contrive 
some honest means of getting a sum of money 
sufficient to put you into a way of life for support- 
ing yourself with independency in your old age." — 
To this Captain Creichton (for that was the gen- 
tleman's name) answered, " I have tired all my 
friends, and cannot expect any such extraordinary 
favours. (i Sir," replied the dean, " I have heard 
much of your adventures ; that they are fresh in 
your memory ; that you can tell them with great 
humour ; and that you have taken memoranda of 
them in writing." The captain answered, " I 
have ; but no one can understand them but my- 
self." " Well then, Sir," rejoined the dean, " get 
your manuscripts, read them to me, tell me none 
but genuine stories ; and I will place them in or- 
der of time for you, prepare them for the press, 
and endeavour to get you a subscription among 
my friends, as you may do among your own." 
The captain soon after waited on the dean with 
his papers, and related to him many adventures, 
which the dean was so kind as to put in chronolo- 
gical order, to correct the style, and make a small 
book of them, intituled, " The Memoirs of Captain 
John Creichton." A subscription was immediately 
set on foot, by the dean's interest and recommen- 
dation, which raised to the captain above 2000/. 
and made the remaining part of his life very happy 
and easy. 

Never perhaps was there a more sincere and ele- 
gant friendship than that which subsisted between 



112 FRIENDSHIP. 

Scipio and Lselius. The former was one of the 
greatest generals and best men that Rome ever 
produced ; the other, for his probity and prudence, 
was distinguished by the surname of " the Wise." 
They were almost of the same age, and had the 
same inclinations, benevolence of mind, taste for 
learning of all kinds, principles of government, 
and zeal for the public good. If Scipio took 
place in the point of military glory, his friend had 
perhaps the superiority in respect of eloquence. 
But let us hear Lselius hiinself upon so interesting 
a subject. " As for me, of all the gifts of nature 
or fortune, there are none, I think, comparable 
to the happiness of having Scipio for my friend. 
I found in our friendship a perfect conformity 
of sentiments, in respect to public affairs ; an 
inexhaustible fund of counsels and supports in 
private life ; with a tranquillity and delight not to 
be expressed. I never gave Scipio the least of- 
fence to my knowledge ; nor ever heard a word 
escape him that did not please. We had but one 
house, and one table, at our common expense ; the 
frugality of which was equally the taste of both. 
For in war, in travelling, in the country, we were 
always together. I do not mention our studies, 
and the attention of us both always to learn some- 
thing. This was the employment of our leisure 
hours, removed from the sight and commerce of 
the world." Is there now any thing comparable 
to a friendship like that here described? " What 
a consolation is it," says Tully, " to have a second 
self, from whom we have nothing secret, and into 
whose heart we may pour out our own with per- 
fect unreserve ? Could we taste prosperity so sen- 
sibly, if we had no one to share with us in our 
joy? And what a relief is it, in adversity, to have 
a friend still more affected with it than ourselves!" 



FRIENDSHIP. 113 

But what more highly exalts the value of the 
friendship in question was, its not being founded 
at all in interest, but solely in esteem for each 
other's virtues. " What occasion/' says Laelius, 
u could Scipio have for rne ? Undoubtedly none ; 
nor I for him. But my attachment to him was 
the effect of my high esteem and admiration of 
his virtues ; and his to me arose from the favour- 
able idea he entertained of my character and man- 
ners. This friendship increased afterwards on 
both sides by habit and commerce. We both in- 
deed derived great advantages from it ; but these 
were not our views when we began to love each 
other." Nothing upon earth can be so desirable 
as such an amity. But in vain do we seek it 
among the ignorant, the vain, and selfish, or men 
of loose and profligate principles. We must soon 
be ashamed of loving the man whom we cannot 
esteem. 

His late Royal Highness Frederick, Prince of 
Wales, who, amongst his other great qualities, 
was the patron of merit, and the friend of man- 
kind, was frequently visited by persons of distin- 
guished abilities, with whom he contracted a strict 
intimacy. Among these, the late Mr. Glover (as 
justly celebrated for the amiableness of his cha- 
racter, as for his qualifications as an orator and a 
poet) had a considerable share in his esteem. One 
day the prince observed at his levee, that he had 
not seen the gentleman for some time, and was 
asking if he was well, was told that Mr. Glover 
was under difficulties on account of some losses in 
trade, which had so discouraged him, that he was 
ashamed to appear in his highness's presence. 
The prince replied, " I am sorry for it; and pre- 
senting a bank note of 500/. to a gentleman who 
stood by, added, " Carry this to Mr. Glover, as a 



1.14 FRIENDSHIP. 

small testimony of my affection ; and assure him 
from me, that I sympathise in his affliction, and 
shall always be glad to see him, 

In the time of the proscription by the triumvirate 
at Rome, a grievous punishment was denounced 
against any person who should conceal or any way 
assist the proscribed ; on the other hand, great re- 
wards were promised to those who should discover 
their hiding-places. Marcus Varro, the philoso- 
pher, was in the list of persons proscribed ; at 
which time his dear friend Calenus tenderly re- 
ceived and concealed him several days in his house; 
and though Antony often came thither, to walk 
and converse, yet was Calenus never affrighted 
nor changed his mind, though he daily saw other 
men punished or rewarded according to the pur- 
port of the sanguinary edict. 

At the battle of Philippi, when Brutus, after the 
rout of his army, was in hazard of falling into the 
hands of his enemies, his bosom friend Lucillus 
gave him an opportunity to escape, calling out, 
*' I am Brutus ; lead me to Antony." Being con- 
ducted to Antony, he spoke with great resolution : 
" I have employed this artifice/' said he, " that 
Brutus might not fall alive into the hands of his 
enemies. The gods will never permit that fortune 
shall triumph so far over virtue. In spite of for- 
tune, Brutus will always be found, dead or alive, 
in a situation worthy of his courage." Antony, 
admiring the firmness of Lucillus, said to him, 
" You merit a greater reward than it is in my 
power to bestow. I have just now been informed 
of the death of Brutus ; and, as your fidelity to 
him is now at an end, I beg earnestly to be received 
in his place ; love me as you did him ; I wish no 
more." Lucillus engaged himself to Antony ; and, 
maintaining the same fidelity to him that he had 



FRIENDSHIP. 115 

done to Brutus, adhered to him when he was aban- 
doned by all the world. 

Damon being condemned to death by Dionysius, 
tyrant of Syracuse, obtained liberty to visit his wife 
and children, leaving his Mend Pythias as a pledge 
for his return, on condition that, if he failed, Py- 
thias should suffer in his stead. Damon not hav- 
ing appeared at the time appointed, the tyrant had 
the curiosity to visit Pythias in prison. " What 
a fool was you," said he, " to rely on Damon's 
promise ! How could you imagine that he would 
sacrifice his life for you, or for any man?" ? My 
lord," said Pythias, with a firm voice and noble 
aspect, " I would suffer a thousand deaths rather 
than my friend should fail in any article of ho- 
nour. He cannot fail ; I am confident of his vir- 
tue as of my own existence. But I beseech the 
gods to preserve his life. Oppose him, ye winds ! 
disappoint his eagerness, and suffer him not to ar- 
rive till my death has saved a life of much greater 
consequence than mine, necessary to his lovely 
wife, to his little innocents, to his friends, to his 
country. Oh ; let me not die the most cruel of 
deaths in that of my Damon." Dionysius was 
confounded and awed with the magnanimity of 
these sentiments. He wished to speak ; he hesi- 
tated ; he looked down, he retired in silence. The 
fatal day arrived. Pythias was brought forth ; and, 
with an air of satisfaction, walked to the place of 
execution. He ascended the scaffold, and address- 
ed the people : " My prayers are heard, the gods 
are propitious ; the winds have been contrary ; Da- 
mon could not conquer impossibilities : he will be 
here to-morrow, and my blood shall ransom that 
of my friend." As he pronounced these words, a 
murmur arose, a distant voice was heard ; the 
crowd caught the words, and M Stop, stop execu- 



116 FRIENDSHIP. 

tion !" was repeated by every person. A man came 
at full speed. In the same instant he was off his 
horse, on the scaffold, and in the arms of Pythias. 
" You are safe," he cried, you are safe, my 
friend, my beloved ; the gods be praised ; you are 
safe !" Pale, cold, and half speechless, in the arms 
of his Damon, Pythias replied in broken accents — 
" Fatal haste — — cruei impatience what en- 
vious powers have wrought impossibilities against 
your friend ? But I will not be wholly disappoint- 
ed : since I cannot die to save you, I will die to ac- 
company you." Dionysius heard, and beheld with 
astonishment ; his eyes were opened ; his heart was 
touched ; and he could no longer resist the power 
of virtue ; he descended from his throne, and as- 
cended the scaffold. 6i Live, live, ye incomparable 
pair. Ye have demonstrated the existence of virtue, 
and, consequently, of a God who rewards it. Live 
happy; live renowned; and as you have invited 
me by your example, form me by your precepts, 
to participate worthily of a friendship so divine !" 
The Cardinal d' Amboise, minister to Louis XII. 
of France, and Archbishop of Rouen, built a mag- 
nificent palace in that city, which was finished be- 
fore it was observed that it was surrounded with 
land that did not belong to the bishopric ; and that 
there was no room for gardens nor offices. The pro- 
prietor of the land adjacent made an offer of it to the 
cardinal. And the cardinal enquiring what was his 
motive for selling it? " The pleasure," answered 
the gentleman, " of accommodating your lordship." 
" If you have no other motives," said the cardinal, 
" keep your land." " I am fond of my land," re- 
plied the gentleman ; " but a neighbour has made 
proposals to me for my daughter, and I cannot 
answer his demands without selling my estate." 
u May you not borrow from a friend?" said the 



FRIENDSHIP. 117 

cardinal : " frugality will enable you to make pay- 
ment without selling your estate." " Ah !" replied 
the gentleman, " I have nc friend from whom I 
can expect such a favour." " Have a better opi- 
nion of your friends," replied the cardinal, holding 
out his hand ; " Rank me among your friends, 
and you shall have the money." The gentleman, 
falling on his knees, returned his thanks by tears. 
The cardinal said, that he had acquired a friend, 
which was better than land. 

After the Revolution, letters were intercepted 
from the Earl of Godolphin to the dethroned king. 
This was a crime against the state ; but not a crime 
to be ashamed of. The earl at the same time was 
a man of approved virtue. These circumstances 
prompted the following course. King William, 
in a private conference, produced the earl's letters 
to him ; commended his zeal for his former master, 
however blind it might be ; expressed a fondness 
to have the earl for his friend ; and at the same 
moment burnt the letters, that the earl might not 
be under any constraint. This act of generosity 
gained the earl's heart, and his faithful services, 
ever after. The circumstances here made the earl 
certain of the king's sincerity. At the same time, 
the burning of the letters, which were the only 
evidence against him, placed him in absolute secu- 
rity, and left no motive to action but gratitude 
alone. 

Two youngr scholars of Eton school, one of whom 
was the late Lord Baltimore, went out a shooting, 
and were detected in that unpardonable offence 
by one of the masters. He came up quickly enough 
to one of them to discover his person ; the other, 
perhaps having quicker heels, got off unknown. 
The detected culprit was flogged pretty severely, 
and threatened with repetitions of the same discip- 



118 FRIENDSHIP. 

line if he did not discover his companion. This, 
however, he persisted in refusing, in spite of re- 
iterated punishment. His companion, who was 
confined to his room at the boarding-house by a 
sore throat (which he had got by leaping into a 
ditch to escape the detection of the master), on 
hearing with what severity his friend was treated 
on his account, went into school, with his throat 
wrapped up, and nobly told the master, that he 
was the boy that was out a shooting with the 
young man who, with such a magnanimous per- 
severance, had refused to give up his name. 

Lord Stanhope was at Eton school with one of 
the Scots' noblemen who were condemned after the 
Rebellion in 1715. He requested the life of his 
old school-fellow (whom he had never seen since 
that time) of the Privy Council, while they were 
deliberating upon the signing of the warrant of 
execution of these unfortunate noblemen. His 
request was refused, till he threatened to give up 
his place, if the council did not comply with it. 
This menace procured him the life of his associate 
in early life, to whom he afterwards sent a hand- 
some sum of money. 



119 




'• Idleness and Gaming are the ruin of Youth." 



GAMING. 



SENTIMENTS. 



The strong desire shall ne'er decay, 

Who plays to vrin, shall win to play ; 

The breast where Love had plannd his reign 

Shall bum unquench'd with lust of gain, 

And all the charms that wit can boast 

In dreams of bitter luck be lost ! 

Thus neither innocent nor gay, 

The useless hours shall feet away : 

While Time overlooks the trivial strife, 

And, scoffing, shakes the sands of life. 

Gaming is pregnant with almost every evil, and 
the fatal source of miseries the most distressful to 



120 GAMING, 

man. Wealth, happiness, and every thing valua- 
ble, are too often sacrificed to it. It rends asun- 
der the bands of friendship and the ties of love. 
The wife, once loving and beloved, is made 
wretched for life ; and the sweet babes, that hung 
with delightful fondness around the knees, are 
thrown upon the cold charity of their relations, 
who perhaps will teach them to lisp out curses on 
their parents' memory. 

Men who have ruined themselves by playing, 
are glad to join the very scoundrels that destroyed 
them, and live upon the spoil of others. Estates 
are now almost as frequently made over by whist 
and hazard, as by deeds and settlements ; and the 
chariot of many of our ladies of fashion may be 
said to " roll upon the four aces." 

Gamesters generally lose their temper and hu- 
manity with their money, and grudge their fami- 
lies the necessaries of life, while they themselves 
are squandering thousands. 

Gaming, like French liberty, levels all distinc- 
tions. The peer and his valet, the man of honour 
and a swindler, may happen to sit at the same 
table ; and a looker-on cannot distinguish the man 
of rank from a sharper sprung from the very dregs 
of the vulgar. 

EXAMPLES. 

A man of pleasure ; a person of high birth, and 
high spirit ; of great parts, and strong passions ; 
every way accomplished, not least in iniquity ; by 
his unkind treatment, was the death of a most 
amiable wife ; his gaming, love of pleasure, and 
great extravagance, at length disinherited his only 
child. 

The sad evening before he died, (says our 



GAMING. 121 

author) I was with him. No one else was there 
but his physician and an intimate, whom he loved, 
and whom he had ruined. 

At my coming in, he said, " You and the phy- 
sician are come too late ; I have neither life nor 
hope ! You both aim at miracles : you would 
raise the dead." 

Refusing to hear any thing from me, or take 
any thing from the physician, he lay silent, as far 
as sudden darts of pain would permit, till the clock 
struck. Then with vehemence, he exclaimed, 
" Oh, time, time ! it is fit thou shouldst thus strike 
thy murderer to the heart. How art thou fled for 
ever ! A month ! oh, for a single week ! I ask 
not for years ; though an age were too little for 
the much I have to do. Pray, you that can. I 
never prayed ; I cannot pray, nor need I. Is not 
Heaven on my side already? It closes with my 
conscience ; its severest strokes but second my 
own," 

His friend being much touched, even to tears, 
at this, (who could forbear ? I could not,) with 
a most affectionate look he said — " Keep these 
tears for thyself : I have undone thee. Dost 
weep forme? That's cruel. What can pain me 
more ? 

Here his friend, too much affected, would have 
left him. 

" No ; stay : Thou still mayst hope : therefore 
hear me. How madly have I talked ! How madly 
hast thou listened and believed? But look on my 
present state, as a full answer to thee, and to my- 
self. This body is all weakness and pain ; but 
my soul, as if strong by torment to greater strength 
and spirit, is full powerful to reason, full mighty 
to suffer. And that, which thus triumphs within 
the jaws of mortality, is doubtless immortal. And 



122 GAMING. 

for a Deity, nothing less than an Almighty could 
inflict what I feel ! My soul as my body, lies in 
ruins ; in scattered fragments of broken thought. 
Remorse for the past throws my thought on the 
future: worse dread of the future strikes it back 
on the past. I turn, and turn, and find no ray. 
Didst thou feel half the mountain that is on me, 
thou wouldst struggle with the martyr for his 
stake, and bless heaven for the flames. That is 
not an everlasting flame ; that is not an unquench- 
able fire. My principles have poisoned my friend ; 
my extravagance has beggared my boy ; my un- 
kindness has murdered my wife ! And is there 
another hell? Oh, thou blasphemed, yet most in- 
dulgent Lord God ! Hell itself is refuge, if it hides 
me from thy frown." 

Soon after, his understanding failed. His 
terrified imagination uttered horrors not to be re- 
peated, or ever forgot. And here the sun (which 
I hope has seen few like him) arose, the gay, 
young, noble, ingenious, accomplished, and most 
wretched Altamont, expired. 

It is related of Mr. Locke, that being invited 
to a company of the highest rank and first abili- 
ties in the kingdom, and hearing cards called for 
as soon as dinner was over, he retired thoughtful 
to a window ; and being asked the reason of his 
seriousness, replied, " He had not slept the fore- 
going night, for the pleasure which their lord- 
ships had given him to expect from that day's 
conversation with men of the first character for 
sense and genius ; and hoped his sorrow for his 
disappointment would be forgiven him." This 
seasonable rebuke had the proper effect : the 
game was instantly thrown up, and conversation 
restored with a brilliancy suitable to the illustrious 
assembly. 



GAMING. 123 

In one of the principal cities in Europe lived 
Lucius and Sapphira, blessed with a moderate for- 
tune, health, mutual love, and peace of mind. 
Their family consisted of two little darlings, a son 
and a daughter. They seemed to want for nothing 
as an addition to their happiness : nor were they 
insensible of what they enjoyed; but animated 
with gratitude to Heaven, they were happy instru- 
ments of good to all about them. Towards the 
close of the summer in 1765, Lucius happened to 
to be in company with some neighbouring gentle- 
men, who proposed to waste an hour or so at cards; 
he consented, more in complaisance to the taste 
of others than his own. Like other gamesters, he 
met with a variety of fortune, (a variety more 
seducing than a continuance either of good or bad,) 
and being warm with liquor, he was inconsider- 
ately drawn in, before the company broke up, to 
involve himself more than his fortune could bear. 
The next day, on sober reflection, he could not 
support the thoughts of that distress which his 
folly had brought upon Sapphira and her little inno- 
cents. He had not courage enough to acquaint her 
with what had happened ; and, whilst in the midst 
of pangs, to which he hitherto had been a stranger, 
he was visited, and again tempted, by one of the 
last night's company, to try his fortune once more. 
In order to drown reflection, and in hopes of 
recovering his loss, he flew to the fatal place ; nor 
did he leave it till he had lost his all. The conse- 
quence of this was, that the next day, in indescri- 
bable despair, after writing to acquaint Sapphira 
with what had happened, he shot himself through 
the head. The news of this deprived the lady of 
her senses. She is (at least was lately) confined 
in a mad-house; and the two little innocents, 
destitute of parents and fortune, have a trouble- 



124 GAMING. 

some world to struggle with ; and are likely to 
feel the miseries which poverty and a servile de» 
pendance entail upon the wretched. 

A young lady, who lived in the north, was on 
the point of marriage with a young~gentleman, of 
whom she was passionately fond, and but whom 
she was as greatly beloved. Sbe was at the same 
time admired by a person of high rank, by whose 
passion, as he was already married, was conse- 
quently dishonourable. He was determined how- 
ever, at any rate, to indulge his diabolical lusts ; 
but the lady being a person of the strictest honour, 
he was obliged to act with caution, and keep his 
intentions a secret. Knowing her propensity to 
gaming, he laid a snare for her, into which she 
fell, to the great diminution of her fortune. This 
he, fiend-like, took care to have represented with 
the most aggravated circumstances to the gentle- 
man to whom she was engaged. Upon which his 
friends pointed to the young lover the dreadful 
inconveniences of his taking a gamester to wife : 
that poverty, disease, and probably dishonour to 
his bed, were the likely consequences. In a word, 
they so managed matters, as to break off the match. 
The " noble villain," who occasioned the breach 
between the lovers, notwithstanding, missed his 
wicked ends : his addresses and proposals met 
with the contempt and abhorrence which they de- 
served. Yet, though she preserved her chastity — 
a circumstance very precarious amongst female 
gamesters — the loss of her intended spouse, on 
whom she had inviolably fixed her affections, 
threw her into a decline, which in a few months 
put a period to her life. .| * 

The late Colonel Daniel (who took great plea- 
sure in giving advice to young officers, guiding 
them in their military functions, &c.) whenever 



GAMING. 125 

he was upon this article of gaming, used always to 
tell the following story of himself, as a warning 
to others; and to show that a little resolution 
may conquer this absurd passion. During Queen 
Anne's wars, he was an ensign in the English 
army, then in Spain : but he was so absolutely 
possessed by this evil, that all duty, and every 
thing else which prevented his gratifying that 
darling passion, was grievous to him. He scarce 
allowed himself time to rest; or, if he slept, his 
dreams presented packs of cards to his eyes, and 
the rattling of dice to his ears. His meals were 
neglected ; or, if he attended them, he looked 
upon that as so much lost time, swallowed his 
meat with precipitancy, and hurried to the ga- 
ming-table again. For some time Fortune was his 
friend ; and he was so successful, that he has often 
spread his winnings on the ground, and rolled 
himself upon them, in order that it might be said 
of him, " He wallowed in gold." Such was his 
life for a considerable time ; but, as he often said, 
(and we may presume, every considerate man will 
join with him,) " it was the most miserable part 
of it." After some time he was ordered on the 
recruiting duty; and at Barcelona he raised LuQ_.j 
recruits for the regiment; though even this busi- 
ness was left entirely to his Serjeant, that he might 
be more at leisure to attend his darling passion. 
After some changes of good and ill luck, Fortune 
declared so openly against him, that in one un- 
lucky run he was totally stripped of the last far- 
thing. In this distress he applied to a captain of 
the same regiment with himself for a loan often 
guineas ; which was refused with these words : 
" What ! lend my money to a professed gamester ? 
No, Sir ; I must be excused : for, of necessity, I 
must lose either my money or my friend. I there- 



126 GAMING. 

fore choose to keep my money." After this 
taunting refusal he retired to his lodging ; where 
he threw himself upon the bed, to lay his thoughts 
and his sorrows to a momentary rest during the 
heat of the day. A gnat, or some such insect, 
happening to bite him, he awoke; when his me- 
lancholy situation immediately presented itself to 
him in strong colours ; without money, and no 
prospect how to get any, to subsist himself and 
his recruits to the regiment, who were then at a 
great distance from him; and should they desert 
for want of their pay, he must be answerable for 
it; and he could expect nothing but cashiering 
for disappointing the queen's service. He had 
no friend : for he, whom he had esteemed such, 
had not only refused to assist him, but had added 
taunts to his refusal. He had no acquaintance 
there ; and strangers, he knew, would not let him 
have so large a sum as was adequate to his real 
necessity. This naturally led him to reflect seri- 
ously on what had induced him to commence 
gamester; and this he presently perceived was 
idleness. He had now found the cause ; but the 
cure was still wanting. How was this to be effect- 
ed, so as to preclude a relapse ? Something must 
be done ; some method pursued, so effectually to 
employ his time, as to prevent his having any to 
throw away on gaming. In this state of mind it 
occurred to him that the adjutancy of the regi- 
ment was to be disposed of; and this he deter- 
mined to purchase, as a post the most likely to 
find him a sufficient and laudable way of passing 
his time. He had letters of credit, to draw for 
what sum he pleased for his promotion in the 
army : but not to throw away idly, or to encou- 
rage his extravagance. Thus far all was well ; 
but the main difficulty remained ; and he must 



GAMING. 127 

get to the regiment before he could get any steps 
toward the intended purchase, or draw for the sum 
to make it with. While he was thus endeavour- 
ing to fall upon some expedient to extricate him- 
self from this dilemma, his friend, the captain, 
who had refused him in the morning, came to pay 
him a visit. After a very cool reception on the 
colonel's side, the other began by asking him what 
steps he intended to take to relieve himself from 
the anxiety he plainly perceived he was in ? The 
colonel then told him all that he had been think- 
ing upon that head; and the resolution he had 
made of purchasing the adjutancy as soon as he 
could join the regiment. His friend then getting 
up, and embracing him, said, "My dear Daniel! 
I refused you in the morning in that abrupt man- 
ner, in order to bring you to a sense of the dan- 
gerous situation you were in, and to make you 
reflect seriously on the folly of the way of life in 
which you are engaged. I heartily rejoice that it 
has had the desired effect. Pursue the laudable 
resolution you have made ; for be assured that 

IDLENESS AND GAMING ARE THE RUIN OF YOUTH. 

My interest, advice, and purse, are now at your 
command. There ; take it, and please yourself 
with what is necessary to subsist yourself and the 
recruits. " This presently brought the colonel off 
the bed ; and the afternoon's behaviour entirely 
obliterated the harshness of the morning's refusal. 
He now viewed the captain in the agreeable light 
of a sincere friend, and for ever after esteemed, and 
found him such. In short, the colonel set out with 
his recruits for the regiment, where he gained great 
applause for his success ; which, as well as his 
commission, he had well nigh lost by one morn- 
ing's folly. He immediately solicited for, and 
purchased the adjutancy ; and from that day never 



128 GAMING. 

touched cards or dice, but (as they ought to be 
used) merely for diversion, or to unbend the mind 
after too close an attention to serious affairs. 

Lysander was the only son of Hortensius, a 
gentleman of large fortune ; who with a paternal 
eye watched over his education ; and suffered no 
means to be neglected, which might promote his 
future usefulness, honour, or happiness. Under 
such tuition he grew up, improving in every ami- 
able accomplishment. His person was graceful ; 
and his countenance the picture of his soul, lively, 
sweet, and penetrating. By his own application, 
and the assistance of suitable preceptors, he w 7 as 
master of the whole circle of sciences ; and no- 
thing was now wanting to form the complete gen- 
tleman, but travelling. The tour of Europe was 
therefore resolved upon, and a proper person pro- 
vided to attend him. Lysander and his tutor di- 
rected their course to France ; and crossed the sea 
at Dover, with an intention to pay their first visit 
to Paris. Here Lysander had difficulties to sur- 
mount, of w 7 hich he was little apprised. He had 
been bred in shades and solitude, and had no idea 
of the active scenes of life. It is easy to imagine, 
therefore, his surprise at being transported, as it 
were, into a new world. He was delighted with 
the elegance of the city, and the crowds of com- 
pany that resorted to the public walks. He 
launched into pleasures ; and was enabled to com- 
mit a thousand extravagancies, by the ample sup- 
plies of money which a fond father allowed him. 
In vain his tutor represented to him the impru- 
dence of his conduct ; captivated with the novelty 
of every thing around him, he was deaf to all his 
remonstrances. He engaged in an intrigue with 
a woman of the most infamous character ; who in 
a short time reduced him to the necessity of 



GAMING. 129 

making fresh demands upon his father. The in- 
dulgent Hortensius, with a few reprimands for his 
profusion, and admonitions to economy, remitted 
him considerable sums. But these were not suf- 
ficient to satisfy an avaricious mistress; and, 
ashamed to expose himself again to his father, he 
had recourse to Fortune. He daily frequented the 
gaming tables ; and, elated with a trifling success 
at the beginning, gave up every other pleasure for 
that of rattling the dice. Sharpers were now his 
only companions, and his youth and inexperience 
made him an easy prey to their artifices and 
designs. His father heard of his conduct with 
inexpressible sorrow. He instantly called him 
home ; but alas ! the return to his native country 
did not restore him to his native dispositions. 
The love of learning, generosity, humanity, and 
every noble principle, were suppressed ; and in 
their place, the most detestable avarice h$id taken 
root. The reproofs of a father, so affectionate as 
Hortensius, were too gentle to reclaim one con- 
firmed in vicious habits. He still pursued the 
same unhappy course ; and at length, by his dis- 
solute behaviour, put an end to the life of the 
tenderest of parents. The death of Hortensius 
had at first a happy effect upon the mind of Lv- 
sander ; and, by recalling him to a sense of reflec- 
tion, gave some room to hope for reformation. To 
confirm the good resolutions he had formed, his 
friends urged him to marry. The proposal not 
being disagreeable to him, he paid his addresses 
to Aspasia ; a lady possessed of beauty, virtue, 
and the sweetest dispositions. So many charms 
could not but impress a heart which filial grief had 
already in some measure softened. He loved and 
married her; and, by her prudent conduct was 
prevailed upon to give up all the former associates 

G 2 



130 GAMING. 

of his favourite vice. Two years passed in this 
happy manner ; during which time, Aspasia bless- 
ed him with a son. The little darling had united in 
him all the father's lustre and the mother's grace. 
Lysander often viewed him with streaming eyes of 
tenderness ; and he would sometimes cry out, 
" Only, my son, avoid thy father's steps, and every 
felicity will attend thee." About this time it 
happened that some business of importance re- 
quired his presence in London. There he unfor- 
tunately met with the base wretches who had been 
his old acquaintance ; and his too easy temper com- 
plying with their solicitations, again he plunged 
into the abyss of vice and folly. Aspasia, wonder- 
ing at the long absence of her husband, began to 
entertain the most uneasy apprehensions for him. 
She wrote him a tender and endearing letter; but 
no answer was returned. Full of terror and anx- 
iety, she went in person after her Lysander. Long- 
was it before she heard the least tidings of him. 
At length, by accident, finding his lodgings, she 
flew to his chamber, with the most impatient joy, 
to embrace a long-lost husband. But ah! who 
can paint the agony she felt, at the sight of Ly- 
sander, weltering in his gore, with a pistol clinched 
in his hand ! That very morning he had put an 
end to his wretched being. A paper was found 
upon the table, of his own hand writing, which 
imported that he had entirely ruined himself, and 
a most amiable wife and child ; and that life was 
insupportable to him. 



131 



HUMANITY. 

SENTIMENT. 

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain meixy. 

Humanity, or Mercy, is the first great attribute 
of the Deity, " who maketh his rain to fall upon 
the just and unjust." Consequently, there is no- 
thing that can bring a man to so near a likeness to 
his Maker. 

A good-hearted man is easy in himself, and 
studies to make others so ; and a denial from him 
is better relished by his obliging regret in doing 
it, than a favour granted by another. 

That scourge of the human race, War, is totally 
repugnant to this generous attribute ; but it pre- 
sents innumerable opportunities of its being exer- 
cised ; and he who spares a cruel enemy when in 
his power, gains more honour than by winning a 
battle. 

EXAMPLES. 

" The senate of the Areopagites being assem- 
bled together in a mountain, without any roof but 
heaven, the senators perceived a bird of prey, 
which pursued a little sparrow, that came to save 
itself in the bosom of one of their company. This 
man, who naturally was harsh, threw it from him 
so roughly, that he killed it; at which the court 
was offended, and a decree was made to banish 
him from the senate." The judicious may observe, 
that this company, which was at that time one of 



132 HUMANITY. 

the gravest in the world, did it not for the care 
they had to make a law concerning sparrows ; but 
it was to show, that clemency and a merciful incli- 
nation were so necessary in a state, that a man 
destitute of them was not worthy to hold any 
place in the government; he having, as it were, 
renounced humanity. 

Marcus Antoninus, the philosopher and emperor, 
excelled most other men in that excellent virtue, 
as he manifestly showed in that glorious action of 
his towards Avidius Cassius and his family, who 
had rebelled against him in Egypt. For, as the 
senate bitterly prosecuted Avidius and all his re- 
lations, Antoninus, as if they had been his friends, 
always appeared as an intercessor in their behalf. 
Nothing can represent him herein so much to the 
life, as to recite part of the oration which, upon 
this occasion, was made by him in the senate, to 
this purpose : "As for what concerns theCassiasn 
rebellion, I beseech you, Conscript Fathers, that, 
laying aside the severity of your censure you will 
preserve mine and your own clemency. Neither 
let any man be slain by the senate, nor let any 
man suffer that is a senator. Let not the blood of 
any patrician be spilt ; let the banished return, 
and the exiles be restored to their estates : I hear- 
tily wish that I could restore those that are already 
dead unto life again. In an emperor, I could never 
approve of the revenge of his own injuries, which, 
however it may be oftentimes just, yet, for the 
most part, if not always, it appears to be cruel. 
You shall therefore pardon the children, son-in- 
law, and wife of Avidius Cassius. But w 7 hy do I 
say pardon them, since there are none of them that 
have done amiss ? Let them live therefore, and let 
them know that they live in security under Mar- 
cus. Let them live in the enjoyment of their pa* 



HUMANITY. 133 

trimony, and in the possession of their garments, 
their gold and silver : and let them be not only 
rich, but safe. Let them have the freedom to 
transport themselves into all places as they please ; 
that throughout the whole world, and in the sight 
of all people, they may bear along with them the 
true and unquestionable instance of yours and my 
clemency." This oration was so pleasing to the 
senate and populace of Rome, that they extolled 
the humanity of Marcos with infinite praises. 

Alphonsus, king of Naples and Sicily, was all 
goodness and mercy. He had besieged the city 
of Cajeta, that had insolently rebelled against him; 
and the city, being distressed for want of neces- 
sary previsions, put forth all their old men, wo- 
men, and children, and such as were unserviceable, 
and shut their gates against them. The king's 
council advised that they should not be permitted 
to pass but should be forced back again into the 
city ; by which means, he would speedily become 
the master of it. The king, pitying the distressed 
multitude, suffered them to depart, though he knew 
it would occasion the protraction of the siege. 
But, when he could not take the city, some were 
so bold as tell him, that it had been his own, in 
case he had not dealt in this manner. " But," 
said the king, u I value the safety of so many per- 
sons at the rate of a hundred Cajetas." 

Augustus Caesar, walking abroad withDiomedes, 
his freedman, a wild boar had broken the place of 
his restraint, and seemed to run directly towards 
Augustus. The freed-man, in whom, at that time, 
there was more of fear than of prudence, consult- 
ing his own safety, took hold of the emperor, and 
placed him before himself: yet Augustas never 
discovered any sign of anger or offence at what 
he did. 



134 HUMANITY. 

C. Julius Caesar was not more famous for his 
valour in overcoming his enemies, than he was for 
his clemency ; wherein, at once he overcame both 
them and himself. Cornelius Phagita, one of the 
bloody emissaries of Sylla, in the civil dissention 
between him and Marius, industriously hunted 
out Caesar, as one of the Marian party, from all his 
lurking holes, at last took him, and was with diffi- 
culty persuaded to let him escape at the price of 
two talents. When the times changed, and it was 
in his power to be severely revenged of this man, 
he never did him the least harm, as one that could 
not be angry with the winds when the tempest was 
over. L. Domitius, an old and sharp enemy of 
his, held Corfinium against him, with thirty co- 
horts : there were also with him very many sena- 
tors, knights of Rome, and the flower and strength 
of the Pompeian party. Caesar besieged the town, 
and the soldiers talked of surrendering both the 
town and themselves to Caesar. Domitius, de- 
spairing of any mercy, commanded a physician of 
his to bring him a cup of poison. The physician, 
knowing he would repent it upon the appearance 
of Caesar's clemency, gave him, instead of poison, 
a soporiferous potion. The town being surrender- 
ed, Caesar called all the more honourable persons 
to his camp, spoke civilly to them, and, having 
exhorted them to peaceable and quiet counsels, 
sent them away in safety, with whatsoever w 7 as 
theirs. When Domitius heard this, he repented 
of the poison he supposed he had taken : but, 
being freed of that fear by his physician, he went 
out unto Caesar, who gave him his life, liberty, and 
estate. In the battle of Pharsalia, as he rode to 
and fro, he cried, " Spare the citizens!" nor were 
any killed, but such only as continued to make 
resistance. After the battle, he gave leave to every 



HUMANITY. ]35 

man of his own side to save one of the contrary : 
and, at last, by his edict, gave leave to all whom 
he had not yet pardoned, to return in peace to 
Italy, to enjoy their estates, honours, and com- 
mands. When he heard of the death of Pompey, 
which was caused by the villany of others, so far 
was he from exulting, that he broke out into tears, 
and prosecuted his murderers with slaughter and 
blood. 

During the retreat of the famous King Alfred, 
at Athelney, in Sometsetshire, after the defeat of 
his forces by the Danes, the following circum- 
stance happened ; which, while it convinces us of 
the extremities to which that great man was re- 
duced, will give a striking proof of his pious and 
benevolent disposition. A beggar came to his 
little castle, and requested alms ; when his queen 
informed him that they had only one small loaf re- 
maining, which was insufficient for themselves and 
their friends, who were gone abroad in quest of 
food, though with little hopes of success. The 
king replied, " Give the poor Christian the one 
half of the loaf. He that could feed five thousand 
men with five loaves and two fishes, can certainly 
make that half of the loaf suffice for more than our 
necessities/' Accordingly, the poor man was re- 
lieved ; and this noble act of charity was soon 
recompensed by a providential store of fresh pro- 
visions, with which his people returned. 

Louis the Ninth, on his return to France with 
his queen and his children, was very near being 
shipwrecked, some of the planks of the vessel hav- 
ing started : and he was requested to go into ano- 
ther ship, which was in company with that which 
carried them. He refused to quit his own ship, 
and exclaimed, " Those that are with me most 
assuredly are as fond of their lives as I can possi- 



136 HUMANITY. 

bly be of mine. If I quit the ship, they will like- 
wise quit it ; and the vessel not being large enough 
to receive them, they will all perish. I had much 
rather intrust my life, and those of my wife and 
children, into the hands of God, than be the occa- 
sion of making so many of my brave subjects 
perish." 

Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles the First, as 
she w 7 as walking out northward of the city of Exe- 
ter, soon after her lying-in, stopped at the cottage 
of a poor woman, whom she heard making doleful 
cries. She sent one of her train to enquire what 
it might be which occasioned them. The page 
returned, and said the woman was sorrowing grie- 
viously because her daughter had been two days 
in the straw, and was almost dead for want of 
nourishment, she having nothing to give her but 
water, and nofcbeing able, for the hardness of the 
times, to get any thing. On this the queen took 
a small chain of gold from her neck, at which hung 
an Agnus. She took off the Agnus, and put it in 
her bosom ; and making the woman be called to 
her, gave her the chain, and bade her go into the 
city, to a goldsmith, and sell it ; and, with the mo- 
ney, to provide for the good woman in the straw. 

Sir Philip Sidney, at the battle near Zutphen, 
displayed the most undaunted courage. He had 
two horses killed under him; and, whilst mounting 
a third, was wounded by a musket-shot out of the 
trenches, which broke the bone of his thigh. He 
returned about a mile and a half, on horseback, to 
the camp ; and, being faint with the loss of blood, 
and probably parched with thirst, through the 
heat of the weather, he called for drink. It was 
presently brought him; but, as he w r as putting the 
vessel to his mouth, a poor wounded soldier, who 
happened to be carried by him at that instant, 



HUMANITY. 137 

looked up to it with wishful eyes. The gallant 
and generous Sidney took the bottle from his 
mouth, just when he was going to drink, and de- 
livered it to the soldier, saying, " Thy necessity is 
yet greater than mine." 

Richard Cromwell, son of Oliver Cromwell, is 
said to have fallen at the feet of his father, to beg 
the life of his sovereign, Charles I. In the same 
spirit of humanity, when Colonel Howard told him, 
on his father's death, that nothing but vigorous 
and violent measures could secure the protectorate 
to him, and that he should run no risk, as himself 
would be answerable for the consequences, Richard 
replied, "Every one shall see that I will do no* 
body any harm : I have never done any, nor ever 
will. I shall be much troubled, if any one is in- 
jured on my account ; and, instead of taking away 
the life of the least person in the nation, for the 
preservation of my greatness, (whichis a burthen 
to me,) I would not have one drop of blood spilt." 

King George II. was verv anxious to save the 
life of Dr. Cameron, against whom execution was 
awarded for treason, five years after the act of at- 
tainder. When he was desired to sign one of the 
death warrants, for a similar offence, he said, in 
the true spirit of mercy that has ever distinguished 
his illustrious house, " Surely there has been too 
much blood already spilt upon this occ'asion !"' 
This prince seemed to have nonfl of that love of 
individual and distinct property which has marked 
the character of many sovereigns. His majesty 
came one day to Richmond Gardens, and finding 
the gates of them locked, while some decently- 
dressed persons were standing on the outside, 
called for the head gardener, in a great passion, 
and told him to open the door immediately : "My 
subjects, Sir/' added he. '-'walk where they please." 



138 HUMANITY. 

The same gardener complaining to him, one day, 
that the company in Richmond Gardens had taken 
up some of the flower-roots and shrubs that were 
planted there, his only reply was, shaking his cane 
at him, " Plant more, then, you blockhead you." 

Queen Caroline, one day observing that her 
daughter, the late Princess of Orange, had made 
one of the ladies about her stand a long time, while 
she was talking to her upon some trifling subject, 
indeed till she was almost ready to faint, was re- 
solved to give her a practical reprimand for her ill 
behaviour, that should have more weight than 
verbal precept. When the princess, therefore, 
came to her in the evening, as usual, to read to her, 
and was drawing herself a chair, to sit down, the 
queen said, " No, my dear, you must not sit at 
present, for I intend to make you stand this even- 
ing as long as you suffered Lady to remain 

to-day in the same position. She is a woman of 
the first quality ; but, had she been a nursery- 
maid, you should, have remembered she was a 
human creature as well as yourself." 

The Due de Montmorenci, one day playing at 
hazard, won a considerable sum of money. A 
gentleman, standing near him, said to his friend, 
" That, now, is a sum which would pay all my 
debts, and make me happy." "Would it so, Sir?" 
replied the duke ; " take it, then ; I only wish that 
it were more." As the duke was walking one day 
in the fields near Thoulouse, with another noble- 
man, their discourse turned upon the happiness of 
men in different situations; and whether those 
were most to be envied, who were in eminent, or 
those who were in low situations of life. " Ho!" 
says the duke, on observing three or four peasants, 
who were making their frugal meal under a tree, 
" These men shall settle the point for us." He 



HUMANITY. 139 

comes up to them, and, accosting them in his usual 
gracious manner, says, " My friends, are you hap- 
py ? Pray tell me," Three of them told him, that, 
confining their happiness to a few acres which 
they had received from their ancestors, they de- 
sired nothing farther: the fourth said, that all that 
he wished, was to be able to regain the possession 
of a part of his patrimony, which had passed into 
other hands, by the misfortunes of some of his 
family. " Well, then, my friend, if you had it 
again, you think you should be happy?" " As 
happy, my lord duke, I think, as a man can pos- 
sibly be in this world." " What would it cost you 
to recover it?" "Two thousand livres, Sir." 
u Weil, then," said the duke, turning to one of his 
attendants " present him with the money, that I 
may say I have had the satisfaction to-day of 
making one person happy." 

A very similar anecdote is told of the late Beau 
Nash, of Bath. A gentleman of broken fortune 
one day standing behind his chair, as he was play- 
ing a game of picquet for 200/. and observing with 
what indifference he w 7 on the money, could not 
avoid whispering these words to another, who 
stood by ; " Heavens ! how happy would ail that 
money make me !" Nash, overhearing him, clap- 
ped the money into his hand, and cried, " Go, and 
be happy !" An instance of his humanity is told 
us in the Spectator, though his name is not men- 
tioned. When he was to give in some official ac- 
counts, among other articles, he charged, " For 
making one man happy 10/." Being questioned 
about the meaning of so strange an item, he 
frankly declared, that, happening to overhear a 
poor man declare to his wife and a large family of 
children that 10/. would make him happy, he 
could not avoid trying the experiment. He added, 



140 HUMANITY. 

that if they did not choose to acquiesce in his 
charge, he was ready to refund the money. His 
employers, struck with such an uncommon in- 
stance of good nature, publicly thanked him for 
his benevolence, and desired that the sum might 
be doubled, as a proof of their satisfaction. In 
the severe winter, in 1739, his charity was great, 
useful, and extensive. He frequently at that sea- 
son of calamity entered the houses of the poor, 
whom he thought too proud to beg, and generous- 
ly relieved them. But, of all the instances of 
Nash's bounty, none does him more real honour, 
than the pains he took in establishing an hospital 
in Bath, It is with pain we add, after this, that in 
the evening of his life, he stood in want of that 
charity which he had never refused to any one. 

Frederick, king of Prussia, one day rang his 
bell, and nobody answered ; on which he opened 
his door, and found his page fast asleep in an 
elbow chair. He advanced toward him, and was 
going to awaken him, when he perceived part of a 
letter hanging out of his pocket. His curiosity 
prompting him to know what it was, he took it out 
and read it. It was a letter from this young man's 
mother, in which she thanked him for having sent 
her part of his wages to relieve her in her misery, 
and finished, with telling him that God would 
reward him for his dutiful affection. The king, 
after having read it, went back softly into his 
chamber, took a bag, full of ducats, and slipped 
it, with the letter, into the page's pocket. Return- 
ing to the chamber, he rang the bell so loudly, that 
it awakened the page, who instantly made his ap- 
pearance. *i You have had a sound sleep," said 
the king. The page was at a loss how to excuse 
himself; and, putting his hand into his pocket, 
by chance, to his utter astonishment, he there 



HUMANITY. 141 

found a purse of ducats. He took it out, turned 
pale, and, looking at the king, shed a torrent of 
tears, without being able to utter a single word. 
"What is that?" said the king: "what is the 
matter?" — "Ah, Sire!" said the young man, 
throwing himself on his knees, " somebody seeks 
my ruin ! I know nothing of this money, which I 
have just found in my pocket !" " My young 
friend," replied Frederick, " God often does great 
things for us even in our sleep. Send that to your 
mother : salute her on my part, and assure her 
that I will take care of both her and you." 



142 



INDUSTRY. 



SENTIMENTS. 



Seest thou a man diligent in his business, he shall 
stand before kings, he shall not stand before mean 
men. 

A man who gives his children a habit of industry, 
provides for them better than by giving them 
a stock of money. 

Industry accomplishes things that, to the idle 
and indolent, appear impossibilities. 

The active do commonly more than they are 
obliged to do ; the indolent do less. 

The man who, with industry and diligence, fills 
up the duties of his station, is like the clear river, 
which refines as it flows, and gladdens and fer- 
tilizes every land through which it glides. 

To strive with difficulties and to conquer them, 
is the highest human felicity; the next is to 
strive, and deserve to conquer. 

No man can be happy in total idleness. He 
that should be condemned to lie torpid and mo- 
tionless, would fly for recreation to the mines and 
the galleys. 

The hand of the diligent maketh rich ; but the 
soul of the sluggard desireth, and hath nothing. 

" The devil/' says a Spanish proverb, " tempts 
every man, but an idle man tempts the devil/' 

The bread gained by industry is the sweetest, 
because it is eaten with satisfaction. 



INDUSTRY. 143 



EXAMPLES. 

Horace, a celebrated Roman poet, relates that 
a countryman, who wanted to pass a river, stood 
loitering on the banks of it, in the foolish expec- 
tation that a current so rapid would soon dis- 
charge its waters. But the stream still flowed, 
increased perhaps, by fresh torrents from the 
mountains; and it must for ever flow, because 
the sources from which it is derived are inex- 
haustible. 

Thus the idle and irresolute youth trifles over 
his books, or wastes in play his precious mo- 
ments ; deferring the task of improvement, which 
at first is easy to be accomplished, but which will 
become more and more difficult, the longer it be 
neglected. 

At Athens there were two poor young men, 
Menedemes and Asclepiades, who were greatly 
addicted to the study of philosophy. They had 
no visible means of support, yet kept up their 
plight and colour, looked hale, well, and in good 
condition. The judges had information given them 
of the retired life of these two, and of their 
neither having any thing to live on, nor apparently 
doing any thing to maintain themselves: conse- 
quently, as they could not live without sustenance, 
it was inferred that they must have some clan- 
destine means of subsisting. Upon this ground 
of information, the young men were summoned 
before the judge, and ordered to answer to the 
charge. One of the accused, after saying that 
little credit was g;iven to what a man could urs;e 
in his own defence, (it being natural to believe 
that every criminal will either deny or extenuate 
the crimes he is charged with), and, adding that 



144 INDUSTRY. 

the testimony of a disinterested person was not 
liable to suspicion, desired that a certain baker, 
whom he yarned, might be summoned, and answer 
for them. Accordingly the baker, being come, 
declared that the young men under examination 
took it by turns to grind his corn every night ; 
and that, for their night's w r ork, he every morning 
paid the young man who ground at the hand-mill a 
drachma; that is, about a groat. The judges, 
surprised at their abstinence and industry, ordered 
as a reward of their virtue, that 200 drachmas 
shuldo be paid them out of the public money. 

" Pray, of w r hat did your brother die ?" said the 
Marquis Spinoli, one day, to Sir Horace Vere. 
" He died, Sir," replied he, "of having nothing 
to do." "Alas! Sir/' said Spinoli, "that is 
enough to kill any general of us all." 

Montesquieu says, " We in general place idle- 
ness among the beatitudes of heaven; it should ra- 
ther, I think, be put amidst the torments of hell." 

That famous disturber and scourge of mankind, 
Charles the Twelfth, of Sweden, used to say "that 
by resolution and perseverance, a man might do 
every thing." Now, though we may not entirely 
agree with his majesty, so far, at least, we may 
venture to observe, that every man may, by unre- 
mitting application and endeavours, do much more 
than, at the first setting out, he thought it possi- 
ble that he ever could do. 

A gentleman was under close confinement in 
the Bastile for seven years, during which time he 
amused himself in scattering a few small pins 
about his chamber, gathering them up again, and 
placing them in different figures on the arm of a 
great chair. He often told his friends, afterwards, 
that unless he had found out this piece of exercise, 
he verily believed he should have lost his senses. 



INDUSTRY. 145 

Sir William Temple, in his heads for an Essay 
on the different Conditions of Life and Fortune, 
pleasantly tells us of " An old man near the Hague , 
who/' says he, "served my house from his dairy, 
and grew so rich, that he gave it over, bought a 
house, and furnished it, at the Hague, resolving to 
live at ease the rest of his life ; but at length, grew 
so weary of being idle, that he sold it, and re- 
turned again to his dairy." 

" Love labour," cried a philosopher : "if you do 
not want it for food you may for physic." The idle 
man is more perplexed what to do, than the indus- 
trious in doing what he ought. Action keeps the 
soul in constant health; but idleness corrupts and 
rusts the mind : and he that follows recreations, in- 
stead of his business, shall, in a little time, have 
no business to follow. 

Demosthenes is an immortal instance of the 
noblest perseverance; the only virtue that is 
crowned. He was extremely affected with the 
honours which he saw paid to the Orator Callis- 
tratus ; and still more, with the supreme power of 
eloquence over the minds of men; and, not being 
able to resist its charms, he gave himself wholly up 
to it, from thenceforth renounced all other studies 
and pleasures, and, during the continuance of Cal- 
listratus at Athens, he never quitted him, but made 
all the improvement he could from his precepts. 
The first essay of his eloquence was against his 
guardians, whom he obliged to refund a part 
of his fortune. Encouraged by this event, he 
ventured to speak before the people, but with 
very ill success. He had a weak voice, a thick 
way of speaking, and a very short breath; notwith- 
standing which, his periods were so long, that he 
was often obliged to stop in the midst of them for 
respiration. This occasioned his being his 

H 



146 INDUSTRY, 

the whole audience. As he withdrew, hanging 
down his head, and in the utmost confusion, Saty- 
rus, one of the most excellent actors of thosgfEimes, 
who was his friend, met him; and, having learnt 
from himself the cause of his being so much de- 
jected, assured him that the evil was not without 
remedy, and that his case was not so desperate as 
he imagined. He desired him to repeat some of the 
verses of Sophocles and Euripides to him; which 
he did. Satyrus spoke them after him; and gave 
gave them such graces, by the tone, gesture, and 
spirit w T ith which he pronounced them, that De- 
mosthenes himself found them quite different from 
what they were in his own manner of speaking, 
He perceived plainly what he wanted, and applied 
himself strenuously to the acquiring of it. His 
efforts to correct his natural defect of utterance, 
and to perfect himself in pronunciation, seem al- 
most incredible; and prove, as Cicero remarks, that 
an industrious perseverance can surmount almost 
all things. He stammered to such a degree, that 
he could not pronounce some letters ; among others, 
that with which the name of "Rhetoric," the art 
he studied, begins. He was also short-breathed, 
as above mentioned. These obstacles he overcame 
at length, by putting small pebbles into his mouth, 
pronouncing several verses in that manner with- 
out interruption ; and accompanying it with walk- 
ing, or going up steep and difficult places : so that, 
at last, no letter made him hesitate; and his breath 
held out through the longest periods. He went 
also to the sea-side, and, whilst the waves were in 
the most violent agitation, he pronounced haran*- 
gues, both to strengthen his voice, and to accus- 
tom himself to the noise of the waters, to the roar 
of the people, and the tumultuous cries of public as- 
semblies. Demosthenes took no less care of his 



INDUSTRY. 147 

action than of his voice. He had a large looking- 
glass in his house, which served to teach him 
gesture, and at which he used to declaim before he 
spoke in public. To correct a fault which he had 
contracted by an ill habit of shrugging up his 
shoulders, he practised standing upright, in a very 
narrow pulpit or rostrum, over which hung a hal- 
berd, in such a manner, that if, in the heat of ac- 
tion, that motion escaped him, the point of the 
weapon might serve at the same time to admonish 
and correct him. His application to study was no 
less surprising. To be the more removed from 
noise, and less subject to distraction, he shut him- 
self up in a small room, under ground, sometimes 
for months together; and there it was, by the light 
of his lamp, that he composed those admirable ora- 
tions, which were said by those who envied him, 
to " smell of the oil ;" to imply, that they were too 
elaborate. Demosthenes heard them, and only 
told them, in reply, " It is plain that yours did not 
cost you so much trouble." He rose constantly 
very early in the morning; and used to say that he 
was sorry when any workman was at his business 
before him. We may further judge of his extra- 
ordinary efforts to acquire excellence of every 
kind, from the pains he took in copying Thucy- 
dides's History eight times with his own hand, in 
order to render the style of that great man familiar 
to him. And his labour was well bestow r ed ; for it 
was by these means, that he carried the art of de- 
claiming to the highest degree of perfection of 
which it was capable: whence it is plain he well 
knew its value and importance. 

Varia Servilius, descended of a Praetorian family, 
was remarkable for nothing but sloth and indolence, 
in which he grew old and odious; insomuch, that it 
was commonly said, by such as passed his house 



148 INDUSTRY, 

Hie Varia situs est; Here lies Varia : thus speak- 
ing of him as a person not only dead, but buried, 
to all intents and purposes of rational existence. 

About fifty years ago, the small territory of Can- 
car, known in the maritime charts under the name 
of Ponthiamas, was wholly uncultivated, and al- 
most destitute of inhabitants. A Chinese mer- 
chant, commander of a vessel, which he employed 
in commerce, frequented these coasts. Being a 
man of that intelligent, reflective genius, which so 
characteristically marks his nation, he could not, 
without pain, behold immense tracts of ground 
condemned to sterility, though naturally more fer- 
tile than those which formed the riches of his 
own country. He meditated, therefore, a plan for 
their improvement, With this view, having first 
of all hired a number of labourers, some Chinese, 
others from neighbouring nations, he, with great 
address, insinuated himself into the favour of the 
most powerful princes; who, for a certain subsidy, 
assigned him a guard for his protection. In the 
course of his voyage to Batavia and the Philippine 
Islands, he borrowed from the Europeans their most 
useful discoveries and improvements, particularly 
the art of fortification and defence. With regard 
to internal police, he gave the preference to the 
Chinese. The profits of his commerce soon ena- 
bled him to raise ramparts, sink ditches, and pro- 
vide artillery. These preliminary precautions se- 
cured him a coup de main, and protected him from 
the enterprises of surrounding nations. He distri- 
buted the lands to his labourers, without the least 
reservation of any of those duties, or taxes, known 
by the name of services, or fines of alienation ; 
duties which, by allowing no real property, become 
the most fatal scourge to agriculture, and suggest 
an idea which revolts against the common sense of 



INDUSTRY. 149 

every wise nation. He provided his colonists, at 
the same time, with all sorts of instruments proper 
for the labour and improvemeut of their grounds. 
In forming a labouring and commercial people, he 
thought no laws ought to be enacted, but those 
which nature has established for the human race in 
every climate : he made those laws respected by 
observing them first himself, and exhibiting an ex- 
ample of simplicity, industry, frugality, humanity, 
and good faith. He formed, therefore, no system 
of laws; buthe did more ; he established morals. 
His territories soon became the country of every 
industrious man, who wished to settle there. His 
port was open to all nations : the woods were 
cleared; the grounds judiciously laboured, and 
sown with rice; canals cut from the rivers, watered 
their fields; and plentiful harvests, after supplying 
them with subsistence, furnished an object of ex- 
tensive commerce. The barbarians of the neigh- 
bourhood, amazed to see abundance so suddenly 
succeed to sterility, flocked for subsistence to the 
magazines of Ponthiamas, whose dominions at this 
day are considered as the most plentiful granary of 
that part of Asia; the Malays, the Cochin-Chinese, 
and the Siamese, whose countries are naturally so 
fertile, considering this little territory as the most 
certain resource against famine. 

A gentleman in Surrey had a farm worth 200/. 
per annum, which he kept in his own hands; but, 
running out every year, he was necessitated to sell 
half of it, to pay his debts, and let the rest to a 
farmer for one-and-twenty years. Before the term 
was expired, the farmer, one day, bringing his rent, 
asked him if he would sell his land " Why/' 
said the gentleman," will you buy it?" " Yes, if it 
please you," said the farmer. " How ?" returned 
he, " that's strange! Tell me how this comes to 



150 INDUSTRY. 

pass, that I could not live upon twice as much, 
being my own ; and you, upon the half, though 
you have paid the rent for it, are able to buy it?" — 
€< Oh ! Sir," said the farmer, " but two words made 
the difference : you said, Go ; and I said, Come." 
■ — "What's the meaing of that V says the gentle- 
man — " Why, Sir," replied the other, "you lay in 
bed, or took your pleasure, and sent others about 
your business ; and I rose betimes, and saw my 
business done myself." 

It is said, in the history of the life of Lopez de 
Vega, a Spanish writer, that no less than 1800 co- 
medies, the production of his pen, have been actu- 
ally represented on the Spanish stage. His Autos 
Sacramentales, a kind of sacred drama, exceed 400; 
besides which there is a collection of his poems 
of various kinds, in 21 vols. 4to. He said of him- 
self, that he wrote five sheets per day ; which, 
reckoning by the time he lived, has been calcula- 
ted to amount to 133,225 sheets. He sometimes 
composed a comedy in two days, which it would 
have been difficult for another man to have even 
copied in the same time. At Toledo he wrote 
once five comedies in fifteen days, reading them 
as he proceeded, in a private bouse, to Joseph de 
Valdevieso. Juan Perez de Montalvan relates that, 
a comedy being wanted for the carnival at Madrid, 
Lopez and he united to compose one as fast they 
could. Lopez took the first act,and Montalvan the 
second, which they wrote in two days; and the 
third act they divided, taking eight sheets each. 
Montalvan, seeing that the other wrote faster than 
he could, says, he rose at two in the morning, and, 
having finished his part at eleven, he went to look 
for Lopez, whom he found in the garden, looking at 
an orange tree that was frozen; and, on enquiring 
what progress he had made in the verses, Lopez re- 



INDUSTRY. 151 

plied, " x\t five I began to write, and finished the 
comedy an hour ago ; since which, I have break- 
fasted, written one hundred and fifty other verses, 
and watered the garden, and am pretty well tired. n 
He then read to Montalvan the eight sheets, and 
the one hundred and fifty verses. 

Gassendi, the celebrated philosopher, was, per- 
haps, one of the hardiest students that ever ex- 
isted. In general, he rose at three o'clock in the 
morning, and read or wrote till eleven, when he re- 
ceived the visits of his friends. He afterwards, at 
twelve, made a very slender dinner, at which he 
drank nothing but water, and sat down to his 
books again at three. There he remained till eio-ht 
o'clock; when, after having eaten a very light sup- 
per, he retired to bed at ten o'clock. 

Queen Mary, wife of William the Third, used to 
say that she looked upon idleness as the great cor- 
rupter of human nature, and believed that if the 
mind had no employment given it, it would create 
some of the worst to itself ; and she thought that 
any thing which might amuse and divert, without 
leaving a dreg and impression behind it, ought to 
fill up those vacant hours that were not claimed 
by devotion or business. "When her eyes," says 
Bishop Burnet, "were endangered by reading too 
much, she found out the amusement of work ; and, 
in all those hours that were not given to better em- 
ployments, she wrought with her own hands, and 
that, sometimes, with so constant a diligence, as if 
she had been io earn her bread by it. Her exam- 
ple soon wrought on not only those that belonged 
to her, but the whole town, to follow it; so that it 
was become as much the fashion to work, as it had 
been to be idle. 

Dr. Johnson says, in the Rambler, " Whenever 
chance brings within mv observation a knot of 



152 INDUSTRY, 

young ladies busy at their needles, I consider my- 
self as in the school of virtue ; and though I have 
no extraordinary skill in plain-work or embroidery, 
1 look upon their operations with as much satis- 
faction as their governess, because I regard them 
as providing a security against the most dangerous 
ensnarers of the soul, by enabling themselves to 
exclude idleness from their solitary moments; and, 
with idleness, her attendant train of passions, fan- 
cies, chimeras, fears, sorrows, and desires. 



V 




Ingratitude ! 

Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand, 
For lifting food to it ? 

King Lear. 



INGRATITUDE. 



SENTIMENTS. 

He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one; 
All other crimes may pass for virtues in him. 

Those who return evil for good, and repay kind- 
ness and assistance with hatred or neglect, are cor- 
rupted beyond the common degrees of wickedness ; 
nor will he who once has been clearly detected in 
acts of injury to his benefactor deserve to be num- 
bered among social beings: he tends to destroy 
confidence, to intercept sympathy, and to blunt 
the generous intentions of the benevolent to more 
grateful objects. 

h 2 



154 INGRATITUDE. 

He who complains of favours withheld, will be 
ungrateful when they are bestowed. 

You may sooner expect a favour from him who 
has already done you one, than from him to whom 
you have done it. 

Too great hurry in repaying an obligation is a 
species of ingratitude. 

The ungrateful rejoice but once in the favours 
they receive; the grateful, always. 

The ungrateful dares accept a benefit from none ; 
dares bestow it upon none. 

EXAMPLES. 

Cicero, flying for his life, was pursued by Heren- 
nius and Popilius Lena. This latter, at the re- 
quest of M. Cselius, Cicero had formerly defended 
with equal care and eloquence; and, from a ha- 
zardous and doubtful cause, sent him home in 
safety. This Popilius, afterwards (not provoked 
by Cicero, in word or deed), of his own accord, 
asked Antonius to be sent after Cicero, then pro- 
scribed, to kill him. Having obtained a license for 
this detestable employment, with great joy he 
speeded to Cajeta, and there commands that per- 
son to stretch out his throat, who was, (not to men- 
tion his dignity) the author of his safety, and de- 
served the most grateful returns from him. Yet 
he did, with great unconcernedednes, cutoff the 
head of Roman eloquence, and the renowned right 
hand of peace. With that burden, he returned to 
the city; nor while he was so laden, did it ever 
come into his thought, that he carried in his arms 
that head, which had heretofore pleaded for the 
safety of his. 

Parmenio had served, with great fidelity, Philip, 
the father of Alexander, as well as himself, for whom 



INGRATITUDE. 155 

he had first opened the way into Asia. He had de- 
pressed Attalus, the king's enemy ; he had always, 
in all hazards, the leading of the king's vanguard : 
he was not less prudent in council, than fortunate 
in all attempts: a man beloved of the men of war; 
and, to say the truth, that had made the purchase 
for the king of the empire of the East, and of all 
the glory and fame he had. After he had lost two 
of his sons in the king's wars, Hector and Nicanor, 
and another in torment upon suspicion of treason, 
this great Parmenio Alexander resolved to deprive 
of life by the hands of murderers, without so 
much as acquainting him with the cause; and 
could choose out no other to expedite this unworthy 
business, but the greatest of Parmenio's friends, 
which was Polydamus, whom he trusted most and 
loved best, and would always have to stand at his 
side in every fight. He and Oleander dispatched 
this great man, as he was reading the king's letter, 
in his garden in Media. So fell Parmenio, who 
had performed many notable exploits without the 
king; but the king, without him, did never effect 
any thing worthy of praise. 

Philip, king of Macedon, had sent one of his 
courtiers to sea, to dispatch something he had given 
him in command : a storm came, and he was ship- 
wrecked; but saved by one that lived there, about 
the shore, in a little boat, wherein he was taken up. 
He was brought to his farm, and there entertained, 
w r ith all civility and humanity; and, at thirty days 
end, dismissed by him, and furnished with some- 
what to bear his charges. At his return, he told 
the king of his wreck and dangers, but nothing of 
the benefits he had received. The king told him 
he would not be unmindful of his fidelity, and the 
dangers he had undergone in his behalf. He f 
taking the occasion, told the king he had ob- 



156 INGRATITUDE. 

served a little farm on the shore, and besought 
him to bestow that on him, as a monument of his 
escape, and reward of his service. The king or- 
dered Pausanias, the governor, to assign him the 
farm, to be possessed by him. The poor man, 
being thus turned out, applied himself to the king, 
told him with what humanity he had treated the 
courtier, and what an ungrateful injury he had re- 
turned him in lieu of it. The king, upon hearing 
the cause, in great anger commanded the courtier 
presently to be seized, and to be branded in the 
forehead with these letters, " Hospes ingrains; 
The ungrateful guest :" restoring the farm to its 
proper owner. 

Henry Keeble, lord mayor of London, 1511, be- 
sides other benefactions in his life-time, rebuilt 
Aldermary church, which had run to ruin, and be- 
queathed, at his death, one thousand pounds for 
the finishing of it: yet, within sixty years after, his 
bones were unkindly, nay, inhumanly cast out of 
the vault wherein they were buried, and his mo- 
nument plucked down, for some wealthy person of 
the present times to be buried therein. 

Belisarius was general of all the forces under 
the Emperor Justinian the First, a man of rare 
valour and virtue : he had overthrown the Persians, 
Goths, and Vandals ; had taken the kings of these 
people in war, and sent them prisoners to his 
master; he had recovered Sicilia, Africa, and the 
greater part of Italy. He had done all this with a 
small number of soldiers, and less cost: he re- 
stored military discipline, by his authority, when 
long lost; he was allied to Justinian himself; and 
a man ofthatuncorrupted fidelity, that, though he 
was offered the kingdom of Italy, he refused it. 
This great man, upon some jealousy and ground- 
less suspicion, was seized upon, his eyes put out, 



INGRATITUDE. 157 

his house rifled, his estate confiscated, and him- 
self reduced to that miserable state and condition, 
as to go up and down in the common road, with 
this form of begging: "Give one halfpenny to 
poor Belisarius, whom virtue raised, and envy hath 
overthrown. " 

Topal Osman, who had received his education 
in the Seraglio, was in the year 1698, about the 
age of twenty-five, sent with the sultan's orders to 
the bashaw of Cairo. He travelled by land to 
Said; and being afraid of the Arabs, who rove 
about plundering passengers and caravans, he em- 
barked on board a Turkish vessel bound to Dami- 
etta, a city on the Nile. In this short passage, 
they were attacked by a Spanish privateer, and a 
very bloody action ensued. Topal Osman here 
gave the first proofs of that intrepidity by which he 
was so often signalized afterwards. The crew, ani- 
mated by his example, fought with great bravery: 
but superior numbers at last prevailed, and Os- 
man was taken prisoner, after being dangerously 
wounded in the arm and thigh. 

Osman's gallantry induced the Spanish captain 
to pay him particular regard: but his wounds were 
still in a bad way when he was carried to Malta, 
where the privateer went to refit. The wound in 
his thigh was the most dangerous, and he was lame 
of it ever after; for which he had the name of Topal, 
or cripple. 

At that time Vincent Arnaud, a native of Mar- 
seilles, was commander of the port at Malta; who, 
as his business required, w r ent on board the priva- 
teer as soon as she came to anchor. Osman no 
sooner saw Arnaud, than he said to him, li Can you 
do a generous and gallant action ? Ransom me : 
and take my word, you shall lose nothing by it." 
Such a request, from a slave in chains, was un 



158 INGRATITUDE. 

common ; but the manner in which it was delivered 
made an impression upon the Frenchman, who, 
turning to the captain of the privateer, asked what 
he demanded for the ransom. He answered, 1000 
sequins, (near 500/.) Arnaud, turning to the Turk, 
said, " I know nothing of you? and would you 
have me risk 1000 sequins on your word?" "Each 
of us act in this/' replied the Turk, " with consist- 
ency. I am in chains, and therefore try every me- 
thod to recover my liberty, and you may have rea- 
son to distrust the word of a stranger. I have no- 
thing at present but my bare word to give you; nor 
do I pretend to assign any reason why you should 
trust to it. I can only say, that if you incline to 
act a generous part, you shall have no reason to 
repent." The commander, upon this, went to 
make his report to the Grand Master, Don Perel- 
los. The air with which Osman delivered himself 
wrought so upon Arnaud, that he returned imme- 
diately on board the Spanish vessel, and agreed 
with the captain for 600 sequins, which he paid as 
the price of Osman's liberty. He put him on board 
a vessel of his own, and provided him asurgeon, with 
every thing necessary for his entertainment and cure. 

Osman had mentioned to his benefactor, that he 
might write to Constantinople for the money he 
had advanced ; but, finding himself in the hands of 
a man who had trusted so much to his honour, he 
was emboldened to ask another favour ; which was, 
to leave the payment of the ransom entirely to 
him. Arnaud discerned, that in such a case, things 
were not to be done by halves. He agreed to the 
proposal with a good grace; and shewed him every 
other mark of generosity and friendship. Accord- 
ingly Osman, as soon as he was in a condition, set 
out again upon his voyage, y 

The French colours now protected him from the 



INGRATITUDE. 159 

privateers. In a short time he reached Damietta, 
and sailed up the Nile to Cairo* No sooner was 
he arrived there, than he delivered 1000 sequins to 
the master of the vessel, to be paid to his benefac- 
tor Arnaud, together with some rich furs ; and he 
gave to the master himself 500 crowns as a present. 
He executed the orders of the sultan his master 
with the bashaw of Cairo ; and setting out for Con- 
stantinople, was the first who brought the news of 
his slavery. 

The favour received from Arnaud in such circum- 
stances made an impression upon a generous mind 
too deep to be ever eradicated. During the whole 
course of his life he did not cease, by letters and 
other acknowledgements, to testify his gratitude. 

In 1715, war was declared between the Veneti- 
ans and Turks. The grand Vizir, who had pro- 
jected the invasion of the Morea, assembled the 
Ottoman army near the isthmus of Corinth, the 
only pass by which the peninsula can be attacked 
by land. Topal Osman was charged with the com- 
mand to force the pass; which he not only executed 
successfully, but afterwards took the city of Co- 
rinth by assault. For this service he was re- 
warded by being made a bashaw of two-tails. The 
next year he served as lieutenant-general under the 
Grand Vizir at the siege of Corfu, which the Turks 
were obliged to abandon. Osman staid three days 
before the place, to secure and conduct the retreat 
of the Ottoman troops. 

In 1722 he was appointed seraskier (general in 
chief) and had the command of the army in the 
Morea. When the consuls of the different nations 
came to pay their respects to him in this quality, 
he distinguished the French by peculiar marks of 
kindness and protection. "Inform Vincent Ar- 
naud/' says he, "that I am the happier in my new 



160 INGRATITUDE, 

dignity, as it enables me to serve him. Let me 
have his son in pledge of our friendship, and I will 
charge myself with making his fortune." Accord- 
ingly, Arnaud's son went into the Morea; and the 
seraskier not only made him presents, but granted 
him privileges and advantages in trade, which 
soon put him in a way of acquiring an estate. 

Topal Osman's parts and abilities soon raised 
him to a great command. He was made a bashaw 
of three tails, and beglerbeg of Romania, one of 
the greatest governments in the empire, and of the 
greatest importance, from its vicinity to Hungary. 

His residence during his government was at 
Nyssa. In the year 1727, Vincent Arnaud and his 
son waited upon him there, and were received 
with the utmost tenderness. Laying aside the ba- 
shaw and governor, he embraced them, caused 
them to be served with sherbet and perfumes, and 
made them sit upon the same sopha with himself; 
an honour rarely bestowed by a bashaw of the first 
order, and hardly ever to a Christian. After these 
marks of distinction, he sent them away loaded 
with presents. 

In the great revolution that happened at Con- 
stantinople, anno 1730, the Grand Vizir Ibrahim 
perished. The times were so tumultuary, that 
one and the same year had seen no fewer than 
three successive vizirs. In September 1731, To- 
pal Osman was called from his government to fill 
this place; which being the highest in the Otto- 
man empire, and perhaps the highest that any sub- 
ject in the world enjoys, is always dangerous, and 
was then greatly so. He no sooner arrived at Con- 
stantinople, to take possession of his dignity, than 
he desired the French Ambassador to inform his 
old benefactor of his advancement; and that he 
should hasten to Constantinople, while things re- 



INGRATITUDE. 161 

mained in the present situation; adding, that a 
grand vizir seldom kept long in his station. 

In the month of January, 1732, Arnaud, with his 
son, arrived at Constantinople from Malta, bring- 
ing with him variety of presents, and twelve Turks 
whom he had ransomed from slavery. These, by 
command of the vizir, were ranged in order before 
him. Vincent Arnaud, now seventy-two years of 
age, with his son, w r ere brought before Topal Os- 
man, grand vizir of the Ottoman empire, He re- 
ceived them in the presence of the great officers of 
state with the utmost marks of affection. Then 
turning to those about him, and pointing to the 
ransomed Turks, "Behold," says he, "these your 
brethren, now enjoying the sweets of liberty, after 
having groaned in slavery: this Frenchman is their 
deliverer. I was myself a slave, loaded with 
chains, streaming with blood, and covered with 
wounds: this is the man who redeemed and saved 
me: this is my master and benefactor: to him I 
am indebted for life, liberty, fortune, and every 
thing I enjoy. Without knowing me, he paid for 
me a large ransom, sent me away upon my bare 
word, and gave me a ship to carry me. Where 
is there a Mussulman capable of such genero- 
sity ?" 

While Osman was speaking, all eyes were fixed 
upon Arnaud, who held the grand Vizir's hands 
closely locked between his own. The vizir then 
asked both father and son many questions con- 
cerning their situation and fortune, heard their an- 
swers with kindness and attention, and then ended 
with an Arabic sentence, Allah Kerim! (the 
providence of God is great!) He made before them 
the distribution of the presents they had brought ; 
the greatest part of which he sent to the sultan, the 
sultana mother, and the Kisler Aga (chief of the 



162 INGRATITUDE. 

black eunuchs); upon which the two Frenchmen 
made their obeisance and retired. 

After this ceremony was over, the son of the 
Grand Vizir took them to his apartments, where 
he treated them with great kindness. Some time 
before they left Constantinople, they had a con- 
ference in private with the vizir, who divested 
himself of all state and ceremony. He let them 
understand, that the nature of his situation would 
not permit him to do as he desired, since a minis- 
ter ever appears in the eyes of many to do nothing 
without a view to his own particular interest ; add- 
ing that a bashaw was lord and master of his own 
province; but that the Grand Vizir at Constanti- 
nople had a master greater than himself. 

He caused them to be amply paid for the ran- 
som of the Turks, and likewise procured them pay- 
ment of a debt which they looked on as desperate. 
He also made them large presents in money, and 
gave them an order for taking a loading of corn at 
Salonica; which was likely to be very profitable, 
as the exportation of corn from that part had been 
for a long time prohibited. 

As his gratitude was without bounds, his libera- 
lity was the same. His behaviour to his benefac- 
tor demonstrated that greatness of soul which dis- 
played itself in every action of his life. And this 
behaviour must appear the more generous, when it 
is considered what contempt and aversion the pre- 
judices of education create in a Turk against Chris- 
tians. 

The Marshal D'Armont, having taken Crodon, 
in Bretagne, during the league, gave orders to put 
every Spaniard to the sword who was found in that 
garrison. Though it was announced death to 
disobey the orders of the general, an English sol- 
dier ventured to save a Spaniard. The English- 



INGRATITUDE. 163 

man was arraigned for this offence before a court- 
martial, where he confessed the fact, and declared 
himself ready to suffer death, provided they would 
spare the life of the Spaniard. The Marshal being 
surprised at such a conduct, asked the soldier, how 7 
he came to be so much interested in the preserva- 
tion of the Spaniard. — " Because, Sir," replied he, 
"in a similar situation, he once saved my life." 
The Marshal, greatly pleased with the goodness of 
the soldier's heart, granted him pardon, saved the 
Spaniard's life, and highly extolled them both. 



164 



IMPURITY. 

SENTIMENTS. 

She hath cast down many wounded: yea, many strong 
men have been slain hy her. — Her house is the 
zmy to Hell, going down to the chambers of Death. 

Cicero says, " that there is not a more pernicious 
evil to a man than the lust of sensual pleasure, the 
fertile source of every detestable crime, and the 
peculiar enemy of the divine and immortal soul." 

If sensuality is pleasure, beasts are happier than 
men. 

He that liveth in pleasure, is dead while he 
liveth. 

Sensual pleasures enervate the soul, make fools 
of the wise, and cowards of the brave; a libertine 
life is not a life of liberty. 

With assiduity and impudence men of all ages 
commence admirers ; and it is not uncommon to 
hear one swear that he is expiring for love, when 
he is dying of old age. Can any thing be more 
infamous or degrading to human nature ? 

The libertine, or sensualist, is one of the lowest 
characters. To obtain his ends, he must become 
a liar, a reprobate, and, in short, a villain, that 
often breaks all the commands of God, before he 
can ruin the object he is in pursuit of. He does 
not rush to destruction alone, but, like his great 
original, drags others along with him to perdition. 

Indulge not desire at the expense of the slightest 



IMPURITY. 165 

article of virtue; pass once its limits, and you fall 
headlong into vice. 

EXAMPLES. 

It has been remarked of Augustus Csesar, that 
chastity was by no means his virtue; but if he cast 
his eye on a beautiful woman, though her husband 
w r ere of the first quality in Rome, he would im- 
mediately send his officers to bring her to him, 
either by fair means or by force. The philosopher 
Athenodorus, who had formerly been preceptor to 
Tiberius, and was very intimate with Augustus, 
took the following; method to reform this vice of 
the great man. When the emperor one day had 
sent a letter for a certain noble lady, of the house 
of the Camilli, the philosopher, fearing some dis- 
aster might ensue, (her family being very popular, 
and highly respected at Rome,) went before to 
the lady's palace ; and acquainting the parties 
concerned with it, the husband, with boiling rage, 
threatened to stab the messengers of the emperor 
when they came. The prudent philosopher, how- 
ever, appeased his resentment, and only desired a 
suit of the lady's apparel, which was granted him. 
He then put it on, and, hiding his sword under his 
robes, entered the litter, personating the lady. The 
messenger knew no other, and carried him in- 
stantly into the emperor's apartment ; who, height- 
ened with desire, made haste to open the litter 
himself, when Athenodorus, suddenly drawing his 
sword, leaped forth upon him, saying, "Thus 
mightest thou have been murdered. Wilt thou 
never leave a vice attended so evidently with much 
danger? Jealousy and rage might have armed a 
husband, or subsituted an assassin, thus disguised, 
instead of thy faithful friend ; who might have laid 



166 IxMPURITY. 

hold of this opportunity to deprive the republic of so 
gracious a prince. But I have taken care of thy 
life; do thou henceforth take warning." The em- 
peror, equally frightened and surprised, testified 
himself pleased with the philosopher's stratagem; 
gave him ten talents of gold, thanking him for so 
seasonable a correction; and it is said, that from 
that time he began to restrain his unlawful plea- 
sures, and cultivate a life more decent and suitable 
to his exalted character. 

A young Italian nobleman fell in love with a 
duchess of singular beauty, but knew not how to 
make her sensible of it : at length chance gave him 
an opportunity beyond his expectation. One 
evening, as he returned from hawking, he passed 
through the fields of the lady in question, border- 
ing on the palace. The Duke, her husband, and 
she were walking together as the young lord came 
by. The Duke seeing his train, and what game 
they had been pursuing, asked him some ques- 
tions concerning their sport, and, being of an 
hospitable disposition, invited him into his palace 
to partake of a collation. He accepted the offer; 
and here commenced an acquaintance, which in 
time made way for an assignation between the 
duchess and him. Accordingly, he was let into 
the garden one night, and conducted privately to 
her chamber, where she was beforehand ready to 
receive him. After some compliments, " my 
lord/ 7 said the duchess, "you are obliged to my 
husband for this favour; who, as soon as you were 
gone from our house, the first time we saw you, 
gave you such commendations as made me con- 
ceive an immediate passion for you." — " And is 
this true, madame?" demanded the young noble- 
man, in astonishment ; " then, far be it from me to 
be so ungrateful to my friend/' With that he re- 



IMPURITY. 167 

sumed his garments, which he had begun to throw 
by, and instantly took his leave. 

Bat, of all the instances we can meet with, in 
reading or in life, where shall we find one so ge- 
nerous and honest, so noble and divine, as that of 
Joseph in Holy Writ? When his master had en- 
trusted him so unreservedly, that, to speak in the 
emphatical manner of the Scripture, " He knew 
not aught he had, save the bread which he did 
eat/' the amiable youth was so unhappy as to ap- 
pear irresistibly beautiful to his mistress : but when 
this shameless woman proceeds to solicit him, how 
gallant, how glorious is his answer ! u Behold, my 
master wotteth not what is with me in the house, 
and he hath committed all that he hath to my 
hand : there is none greater in this house than I ; 
neither hath he kept back any thing from me, but 
thee, because thou art his wife. How then can I 
do this great wickedness and sin against God V 
The same arguments which a base mind would 
have made to itself for perpetrating the evil, 
namely free trust, full power, and immediate temp- 
tation, were, to this brave, this gallant man, the 
greatest motives for his forbearing it. He could 
do it with impunity to man; but he could not af- 
front and presumptuously offend a just, a holy, 
and an avenging God. 

It is surely matter of wonder, that these destroy- 
ers of innocence, though dead to all the higher 
sentiments of virtue and honour, are not restrained 
by compassion and humanity. To bring sorrow, 
confusion and infamy, into a family ; to wound the 
heart of a tender parent, and stain the life of a 
poor, deluded young woman, with a dishonour 
which can never be wiped off, are circumstances, 
one would think, sufficient to check the most vio- 
lent passion, in a heart that has the least tincture 



168 IMPURITY. 

of pity and good nature. To enforce these gene- 
ral reflections, we add the following anecdote, 
taken from a French author, and which refers to 
the Chevalier Bayard, a man of great valour, high 
reputation, and distinguished, amongst his con- 
temporaries, by the appellation of ■? The knight 
without fear, and without reproach."" " Our 
knight/' says he, " was pretty much addicted to 
that most fashionable of all faults." One morn- 
ing, as he was dressing, he ordered his lacquey to 
bring him home, in the evening, some victim of 
lawless passion. The fellow who was prompt 
to do evil, had, it seems, for some time, addressed 
himself to an old gentlewoman of decayed for- 
tune, who had a young maiden to her daughter, of 
very great beauty, and not yet sixteen years of 
age. The mother's extreme poverty, and the in- 
sinuations of this artful pander, concerning the 
soft disposition and generosity of his master, 
made her, at length, consent to deliver up her 
daughter. But many were the entreaties and re- 
presentations of the mother to gain her child's 
consent to an action which, she said, she abhorred, 
even while she exhorted her to it. " But my 
child," says she, f can you see your mother die for 
hunger?" Thevirginarguednolonger ; but, burst- 
ing into tears, declared she would go any where. 
The lacquey conveyed her with great obsequious- 
ness and secrecy to his master's lodgings, and 
placed her in a commodious apartment till he 
came home. The knight, at his return, was met 
by his lacquey, (with that saucy familiarity which 
vice never fails to inspire between ranks, however 
unequal,) who told him, with a diabolical exulta- 
tion, " She is as handsome as an angel ; but the 
fool has wept till her eyes are swelled and 
bloated : for she is a maiden and a gentlewoman." 



IMPURITY* 169 

With that he conducted his master to the room 
where she was, and retired. The knight, when he 
saw her bathed in tears, said with some surprise, 
" Don't you know, young woman, why you were 
brought hither?" The unhappy maid instantly 
fell on her knees, and, with many interruptions of 
sighs and tears, said to him, " Yes, Sir, too well, 
alas! I know why I am brought hither : my mother, 
to get bread for her and myself, has sent me : but 
would it might please heaven I could die, be- 
fore I am added to the number of those miserable 
wretches who live without honour!" With this 
reflection, she wept anew, and beat her bosom. 
The knight stepping from her, said, " I am not so 
abandoned as to hurt your innocence against your 
will." — The novelty of the accident surprised him 
into virtue; and covering the young maid with a 
cloak, he led her to a relation's house, to whose 
care he recommended her for that night. The 
next morning he sent for her mother, and asked 
her if her daughter was the virtuous creature she 
so amiably appeared to be: the mother assured 
him of her spotless purity, till, at least, the late pe- 
riod when she delivered her up to his servant. 
"And are not you, then," cried the knight, " a 
wicked woman, to contrive the debauchery of your 
own child ?" She held down her face w T ith fear 
and shame, and, in her confusion, uttered some 
broken words concerning her poverty. " Far be 
it," said the chevalier, "that you should relieve 
yourself from want by a much greater evil! Your 
daughter is a fine young creature : do you know 
of none that ever spoke of her for a wife?" The 
mother answered, " there is an honest man in our 
neighbourhood that loves her, who has often said 
he would marry her with 200/." The knight or- 
dered his man to reckon out that sum, with an ad- 

i 



170 IMPURITY. 

dition of fifty, to buy the bride-clothes, and fifty 
more as a help to the mother. I appeal to all the 
libertines iu town, whether the possession of mer- 
cenary beauty could give half the pleasure that 
this young gentleman enjoyed in the reflection of 
having relieved a miserable parent from guilt and 
poverty, an innocent virgin from public shame and 
ruin, and bestowing a virtuous wife upon an honest 
man. How noble an example is this to every ge- 
nerous mind ! and how consonant to the character 
of " that pure religion," which we are told " con- 
sists in visiting the fatherless and the widows in 
their afflictions, and in keeping ourselves unspot- 
ted from the world." 

We will close these anecdotes with a part of a 
letter inserted in the Guardian, (No. 123,) written 
in the character of a mother, to one in high rank, 
who had seduced and abused her daughter; and 
which gives a very lively idea of the affliction 
which a good parent must suffer on so melancholy 
an occasion. 

"My Lord, 

"Last night I discovered the injury you have 
done to my daughter. Heaven knows how long 
and piercing a torment that short-lived, shameful 
pleasure of yours, must bring upon me! upon me, 
from whom you never received any offence! This 
consideration alone should have deterred a noble 
mind from so base and ungenerous an act. But, 
alas ! what is all the grief that must be my share, 
in comparison of that with which you have re- 
quited her by whom you have been obliged? Loss 
of good name, anguish of heart, shame, and infamy, 
must inevitably fall upon her, unless she gets over 
them by what is much worse, open impudence, 
professed lewdness, and abandoned prostitution ! 
These are the returns you have made to her, 



IMPURITY. 171 

for putting in your power all her livelihood and 
depenclance, her virtue and reputation. O, my 
lord, should my son have practised the like on one 
of your daughters; I know you swell with indig- 
nation at the very mention of it, and would think 
he deserved a thousand deaths, should he make 
such an attempt upon the honour of your family. 
Tis well, my lord. —And is then the honour of 
your daughter, (whom still, though it had been 
violated, you might have maintained in plenty, and 
even luxury,) of greater moment to her, than to 
my daughter hers, whose only sustenance it was? 
And must my son, void of all the advantages of a 
generous education, must he, I say, consider; and 
may your lordship be excused from all reflection? 
— Eternal contumely attend that guilty title which' 
claims exemption from thought, and arrogates to 
its wearer the prerogative of brutes! Ever cursed 
be its false lustre which could dazzle my poor 
daughter to her undoing! Was it for this, that the 
exalted merits and godlike virtues of your great 
ancestor were honoured with a coronet, that it 
might be a pander to his posterity, and confer a 
privilege of dishonouring the innocent and de- 
fenceless? At this rate the laws of rewards should 
be inverted, and he who is opener**" **a-gouir 
should be made a beggar and a slave, that indus- 
try, and honest diligence may keep his posterity 
unspotted, and preserve them from ruining virgins, 
and making whole families unhappy. Wretched- 
ness is now become my never-failing portion, 
&c. Thus have I given some vent to my sorrow ; 
nor fear I to awaken you to repentance, so that 
your sin may be forgiven. 
"My Lord, 
" Your conscience will help you to my name." 



172 



INTEMPERANCE. 



SENTIMENTS. 



The sad effects of^tuxury are these ; 

We drink our poison, and we eat disease. 

Not so, O Temperance bland ; when ruled by thee, 

The brute 's obedient , and the man is free : ^ 

Soft are his slumbers, balmy is his rest, 

His veins not boiling from the midnight feast. 

'Tis to thy rules, bright Temperance! we owe 

Allpleasures which from health and strength canflow ; 

Vigour of body, purity of mind, 

Unclouded reason, sentiments refn'd; 

Unmix'd, untainted joy f s, without remorse, 

The intemperate sensualist 9 s never-failing curse. 

The greatest pleasures of sense turn disgustful 
by excess. 

Tii^ gr^tifi nation of desire is sometimes the 
worst thing that can befall us. 

It was a maxim of Socrates, u that we ought to 
eat and drink, to live ; and not to live, in order to 
eat and drink." 

Luxury may contribute to give bread to the poor; 
but if there were no luxury there would be no poor. 

Pride and luxury are the parents of impurity 
and idleness, and impurity is the parent of indi- 
gence. 

Sensual enjoyment, when it becomes habitual, 
loses its relish, and is converted into a burden. 



INTEMPERANCE. 173 

Be moderate in your pleasures, that your relish 
for them may continue. 

Temperance is the preservation of the dominion 
of soul over sense, of reason over passion. — The 
want of it destroys health, fortune, and., consci- 
ence ; robs us of personal elegance and domestic 
felicity : and, what is worst of all, it degrades 
our reason, and levels us with brutes. 

Anacharsis, the Scythian, in order to deter 
young men from that voluptuouJless which is ever 
attended with ill effects, applied his discourse to 
them in a parable ; telling them that the vine of 
youthful gratification and intemperance had three 
branches, producing three clusters : !" On the first/' 
says he, " grows pleasure ; on the second, sot- 
tishness ; and, on the third, sadness. n 

To shew the dangers of intemperance, the ca- 
tholic legends tell us of some hermit, to whom the 
devil gave his choice of three crimes ; two of them 
of the most atrocious kind, and the other to be 
drunk. The poor saint chose the last, as the least 
of the three ; but, when drunk, he committed the 
other two. 

EXAMPLES. 

One of the most celebrated poets has somewhere 
observed, that 

Dull sleep instructs, nor sport vain dreams in rain. 

The following may serve as an instance. (Jhremcs ■ 
of Greece, though a young man, was very infirm 
and sickly, through a course of luxury and intem- 
perance, and subject to those strange sort of fits 
which are called trances. In one of these, he 
thought a philosopher came to sup with him ; who, 
out of all the dishes served up at the table, would 
only eat of one, and that the most simple ; yet bis 



174 INTEMPERANCE. 

conversation was sprightly, his knowledge great, 
his countenance cheerful, and his constitution 
strong. When the philosopher took his leave, he 
invited Chremes to sup with him at a house in the 
neighbourhood : this also took place in his ima- 
gination; and he thought he was received with 
the most polite and affectionate tokens of friend- 
ship ; but was greatly surprised, when supper came 
up, to find nothing but milk and honey, and a few 
roots dressed up%i the plainest manner, to which 
cheerfulness and good sense were the only sauces. 
As Chremes was unused to this kind of diet, and 
could^not eat, the philosopher ordered another 
table to be spread more to his taste ; and im- 
mediately there succeeded a banquet, composed 
of the most artificial dishes that luxury could in- 
vent, with great plenty and variety of the richest 
- and most intoxicating wdnes. These, too, w ? ere 
accompanied by damsels of the most bewitching 
beauty. And now Chremes gave a loose to his 
appetites, and every thing he tasted raised exta- 
sies beyond what he had ever known. During the 
repast, the damsels sung and danced to entertain 
him ; their charms enchanted the enraptured guest, 
already heated with what he had drank ; his sen- 
ses were lost in extatic confusion ; every thing 
around him seeded Elysium, and he was upon the 
point of indulging the most boundless freedom, 
when lo! on a sudden, their beauty, which was 
but a visor, fell off, and discovered to his view forms 
the most hideous and forbidding imaginable. 
Lust, revenge, folly, murder, meagre poverty, and 
frantic despair, now appeared in their most odious 
shapes, and the place instantly became the direct 
scene of misery and desolation. How often did 
Chremes wish himself far distant from such dia- 
bolical company ! and how dread the fatal conse- 



INTEMPERANCE. 175 

quence which threatened him on every side! His 
blood ran chill'd to his heart; his knees smote 
against each other with fear, and joy and rapture 
were turned into astonishment and horror. When 
the philosopher perceived that this scene had made 
a sufficient impression on his guest, he thus ad- 
dressed him : " Know, Chremes, it is I, it is iEscu- 
lapius, who has thus entertained you ; and what 
you have here beheld is the true image of the 
deceitfulness and misery inseparable from luxury 
and intemperance. Would you be happy, be tem- 
perate. Temperance is the parent of health, vir- 
tue, wisdom, plenty, and of every thing that can 
render you happy in this world, or the world to 
come. It is, indeed, the true luxury of life ; for 
without it life cannot be enjoyed." This said, he 
disappeared ; and Chremes, awaking, and in- 
structed by the vision, altered his course of li%t 
became frugal, temperate, industrious; and by 
that means so mended his health and estate, that 
he lived without pain, to a very old age, and was 
esteemed one of the richest, best, and wisest men 
in Greece. 

Such is the beautiful moral drawn by the pen 
of elegant and instructive fiction ; with which if 
there be any mind so insensible as not to be pro- 
perly affected, let us only turn t^that striking re- 
ality presented to us in the ca^ of Lewis Cor- 
naro. This gentleman was a Venetian of noble 
extraction, and memorable for having lived to an 
extreme old age ; for he was above a hundred 
years old at the time of his death, which happen- 
ed at Padua, in the year 15G5. Amongst other 
little performances, he left behind him a piece, 
entitled, " Of the advantages of a Temperate Life;" 
of which we will here give our readers some ac- 
count ; not only because it will very well illustrate 



176 INTEMPERANCE* 

the life and character of the author, but may 
possibly be of use to those who take the summum 
bonurn, or chief good of life, to consist in good 
eating. He was moved, it seems, to compose this 
little piece at the request, and for the benefit of 
some ingenious young men, for whom he had a 
regard ; and who, having long since lost their pa- 
rents, and seeing him, then eighty-one years old^ 
in a fine florid state of health, were desirous to 
know of him what it was that enabled him to 
preserve, as he did, a sound mind in a sound body, 
to so extreme an age. He describes to them, 
therefore, his whole manner of living, and the 
regimen he had always pursued, and was then 
pursuing. He tells them that, when he was 
young he was very intemperate ; that his in- 
temperance had brought upon him many and 
grievous disorders ; that, from the thirty-fifth to 
the fortieth year of his age, he spent his nights 
and days in the utmost anxiety and pain ; and 
that, in short, his life was grown a burthen to him. 
The physicians, however^ as he relates, notwith- 
standing all the vain and fruitless efforts which 
they made to restore his health, told him that 
there was one method still remaining, which had 
never been tried, but which, if they could but 
prevail with him to use with perseverance, might 
free him, in time, from all his complaints ; and 
that was, a temperate and regular way of living. 
They added, moreover, that, unless he resolved to 
apply instantly to it, his case would soon become 
desperate, and there would be no hopes at all of 
his recovery. Upon this, he immediately prepared 
himself for his new regimen : and now began to eat 
and drink nothing but what was proper for one 
in his weak habit of body; but this was at first 
very disagreeable to him. He often wanted to 



INTEMPERANCE. 177 

live again in his old manner, and did, indeed, in- 
dulge himself in a freedom of diet, sometimes 
without the knowledge of his physicians; but, as 
he informs us, much to his own detriment and un- 
easiness. Driven, in the mean time, by the ne- 
cessity of the thing, and resolutely exerting all the 
powers of his understanding, he at last grew 
confirmed in a settled and uninterrupted course of 
temperance; by virtue of which, as he assures us, 
all his disorders had left him in less than ayear; and 
he had been a firm and healthy man, from thence- 
forward, till the time in which he wrote his treatise. 
To show what security a life of temperance af- 
forded against the ill consequences of hurts and 
disasters, he relates the following accident, which 
befel him when he was very old. One day, being- 
out in his chariot, and his coachman driving some- 
what faster than ordinary, he had the misfortune 
to be overturned, and dragged by the horses a 
considerable way upon the ground. His head, his 
arms, and his whole body, were very much bruised, 
and one of his ancles was put out of joint. In 
this condition he was carried home; and the phy- 
sicians, seeing how grievously he had suffered, 
concluded it impossible that he should live three 
days to an end. They were, however, mistaken ; 
for, by bleeding, and evacuating medicines, the 
usual method of treating persons in like cases, 
he presently recovered, and arrived at his former 
stability and firmness. 

Some sensualists, as it appears, had objected to 
his abstemious manner of living; and, in order to 
evince the reasonableness of their own, had urged 
that it was not worth while to mortify one's appe- 
tites at such a rate for the sake of being old, since 
all that was life, after the age of sixty-five, could 
not properly be called a living life, but a dead life. 

i 2 



178 INTEMPERANCE. 

" Now/' says he, " to shew these gentlemen how 
much they are mistaken, I will briefly run over 
the satisfactions and pleasures, which I myself 
enjoy, in this eighty-third year of my age. In 
the first place, I am always well; and so active 
withal, that I can, with ease, mount a horse upon 
aflat, or walk upon the tops of very high moun- 
tains. In the next place, I am always cheerful, 
pleasant, perfectly contented, and free from all 
perturbation, and every uneasy thought. I have 
none of fcbat fastidium vitcs, that satiety of life, so 
often to be met with in persons of my age. I 
frequently converse with men of parts and learn- 
ing, and spend much of my time in reading and 
writing. These things I do just as opportunity 
serves, or my humour invites me, and all in my 
own house at Padua. I frequently make excur- 
sions to some of the neighbouring cities, for the 
sake of seeing my friends, and conversing with 
adepts in all arts and sciences; architects, paint- 
ers, statuaries, musicians, and even husbandmen. 
I contemplate their works, compare them with 
the ancients, and am always learning something 
which it is agreeable to know. I take a view 
of palaces, gardens, antiquities, public buildings, 
temples, fortifications, and endeavour to let no- 
thing escape me which may afford the least 
amusement to a rational mind. Nor are these 
pleasures at all blunted by the usual imperfections 
of great age ; for I enjoy all my senses in perfect 
vigour; my taste especially, in so high a degree, 
that I have a better relish for the plainest food now, 
than I had for the choicest delicacies formerly, 
when immersed in a life of luxury. Nay, to let 
you see what a portion of fire and spirit I have 
still left within me, be pleased to know that I have, 
this very year, written a comedy full of innocent 



IXTEMPERAXCE. 179 

mirth and pleasantry ; and, as I say, if a Greek 
poet was thought so healthy and happy for writ- 
ing a tragedy at the age of seventy-three, why 
should not 1 be thought as healthy and as happy, 
who have written a comedy when I am ten years 
older? In short, that no pleasure whatever may 
be wanting to my old age, I please myself daily 
with contemplating that immortality which I think 
I see in the succession of my posterity. For, 
every time I return home, I meet eleven grand- 
children, all the offspring of one father and mo- 
ther; all in fine health; all, as far as I can discern, 
apt to learn, and of a good behaviour. I am often 
amused by their singing; nay, I often sing with 
them, because my voice is stronger and clearer 
now than ever it w 7 as in my life before. These are 
the delights and comforts of my old age ; from 
which, I presume, it appears that the life I spend is 
not a dead, morose, and melancholy life ; but a liv- 
ing, active, pleasant life, which I would not ex- 
change with the most robust of those youths, who 
indulge and riot in all the luxury of the senses, be- 
cause I know them to be exposed to a thousand 
diseases, and a thousand kinds of death. 1, 
on the contrary, am free from all such appre- 
hensions; from the apprehensions of disease, 
because I have nothing in my constitution for 
a disease to feed upon ; from the apprehen- 
sions of death, because I have spent a life of 
reason. Besides, death, I am persuaded, is not 
yet near me. I know that, barring accidents, 
no violent disease can touch me. I must be dis- 
solved by a gentle and gradual decay, when the 
radical humour is consumed, like oil in a lamp, 
which affords no longer life to the dying taper. 
But such a death as this cannot happen of a sud- 
den. To become unable to walk and reason, to 



180 INTEMPERANCE. 

become blind, deaf, and bent to the earth, from all 
which evils I am far remote at present, must take 
a considerable portion of time; and I verily be- 
lieve, that the immortal soul, which still inhabits 
my body with so much harmony and complacency, 
will not easily depart from it yet. I verily believe, 
that I have many years to live, many years to en- 
joy the world and its blessings, by virtue of that 
strict sobriety and temperance which I have so 
long and so religiously observed ; friend as I am to 
reason, but a foe to sense." Thus far this good 
and wise philosopher, who was known afterwards 
to have prophesied very truly concerning his future 
health and happiness. 

It is said of Diogenes, that meeting a young 
man who was going to a feast, he took him up in 
the street, and carried him home to his friends, as 
one who was running into imminent danger, had 
he not prevented him. What would that philoso- 
pher have said, had he been present at the gluttony 
of a modern meal ? would not he have thought 
the master of a family mad, and have begged 
his servants to tie down his hands, had he seen him 
devour fowl, fish, and flesh; swallow oil and vine- 
gar, wines and spices; throw T down salads of 
twenty different herbs, sauces of a hundred in- 
gredients, confections and fruits of numberless 
sweets and flavours? What unnatural motions and 
counterferments must such a medley of intempe- 
rance produce in the body ! for my own part, when 
1 behold a fashionable table set out in all its mag- 
nificence, I fancy I see gouts and dropsies, fevers 
and lethargies, with other innumerable distempers, 
lying in ambuscade amongst the dishes. 

Nothing can be more worthy a serious perusal 
than the latter part of the 23d chapter of Proverbs, 
to guard men against the odious vice of drunken- 



INTEMPERANCE. 181 

ness. In verse 33, &c. the writer bids us mark the 
particular ill effects of it. "Thine eyes/' says he, 
" shall behold strange women, and thine heart shall 
utter perverse things. Yea, thou shalt be as he 
that lieth down in the midst of the sea, or as he 
thatlieth on the top of a mast." That is, /'Thou 
wilt sottishly ran thyself into the extremest 
hazards, without any apprehensions of danger ; 
being no more able to direct thy course, than a 
pilot who slumbers when the ship is tossed in the 
midst of the sea; no more able to take notice of the 
perils thou art in, than he who falls asleep on the 
top of a mast, where he was set to keep watch." 
He goes on, "They have striken me, shalt thou 
say, and I was not sick ; they have beaten me, and 
I felt it not. When shall I awake? I will seek it 
yet again." There is great beauty and energy in 
the conciseness of the original. What we render, 
"I was not sick," should rather be, "and I was 
not sensible of it." The next clause should be, 
They have mocked me, and I knew it not." — 
"They have stricken me, and I was not sensible 
of it ; they have mocked me, and I knew it not." 
How 7 striking and instructive a portrait is this of 
the stupid insensibility of a drunkard ! Mr. Prior, 
in his Solomon, has well expressed it in the fol- 
lowing lines. There are, says he, 

■ Yet unnumbered ills that lie unseen 

In the pernicious draught: the u -oi d obscene, 
Or harsh, (which once c/anc'd, mHsi eierj/u 
Irrevocable;^ the too prompt reply, 
Seed of severe distrust, and fierce debate, 
What we should shun, and what we ought to hate. 
Add too, the blood impoverish* d, and the course 
Of health suppressed by nine's continued force. 
Unhappy matt I whom sorrow tliu<, and rage, 
To different ilk alternately engage. 



182 INTEMPERANCE. 

Who drinks, alas! but to forget; nor sees 
That melancholy sloth, severe disease, 
Memory confused, and interrupted thought, 
Death's harbingers, lie latent in the draught; 
And in theflozcers that wreathe the sparkling bozd, 
Fell adders hiss, and poisonous serpents roll. u 

If there was ever a man who in a worldly sense 
" strove for the mastery/' it was Charles the 
Twelfth of Sweden ; and accordingly his history 
tells us, that he was remarkably " temperate/' in 
order to the attainment of his end : even his 
boisterous and romantic character therefore may 
edify and improve wiser and better minds. "The 
earlier days of his administration/' says Voltaire, 
*' gave no favourable ideas of him; it seemed as if 
he had been more impatient to reign than worthy 
of it. He had indeed no dangerous passion : but 
nothing was to be seen in his conduct, but the 
sallies of youthful impetuosity and obstinacy. He 
appeared quite careless and haughty. The am- 
bassadors from other courts even took him for a 
very moderate genius, and painted him as such to 
their several masters. Sweden too had the same 
opinion of him ; and nobody knew his real charac- 
ter. Nor did he know it himself, till the sudden 
storms that burst forth in the northern world gave 
his hidden talents an opportunity of displaying 
themselves. But then every one was in the highest 
degree surprised, to see him instantaneously re- 
nounce all, even the most innocent, amusements of 
his youthful days. From the moment he prepared 
for war, he commenced a life entirely new, from 
which he never after varied in the least. Full of 
the idea of Alexander and of Csesar, he purposed to 
imitate in those conquerors every thing but their 
vices. He no longer consulted magnificence, or 
regarded sports or relaxations ; he reduced his table 



INTEMPERANCE. 183 

to the exactest frugality. He had hitherto been fond 
of splendor in his apparel; from henceforward he 
dressed himself only as a common soldier. He had 
been suspected of having entertained a passion for 
a lady of his court; but, whether this circumstance 
be true or not, it is certain that from henceforth he 
for ever renounced the sex ; not merely for fear of 
being governed by them, but to set an example to 
his soldiers, whom he wished to preserve in the 
strictest discipline ; and, perhaps, also from a va- 
nity of being the only king who had conquered a 
propensity so difficult to subdue. He likewise 
resolved to abstain from wine all the rest of his life ; 
not, as some have pretended, because he would 
punish in himself an excess, which was said to 
have led him into actions unworthy of his charac- 
ter, (for nothing is more false than this popular re- 
port,) but because it too much stimulated his fiery 
temper : nay, he even quitted beer, and reduced 
himself to pure water. To crown the whole, we 
must remember that sobriety was then a virtue 
entirely new in the north, and therefore Charles 
was determined to be a pattern to his Swedes in 
every particular." 

Sully, the great statesman of France, kept up 
always at his table at Villebon the frugality to 
which he had been accustomed in early life in the 
army. His table consisted of a few dishes, dressed 
in the plainest and most simple manner. The 
courtiers reproached him often with the simplicity 
of his table. He used to reply, in the words of an 
ancient, " If the guests are men of sense, there is 
sufficient for them; if they are not, I can very 
well dispense with their company. " 



184 




O worthy Duke ; 
Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak, 
Must either punish me, not being belov'd, 
Or wring redress from you : hear me, O hear me ! 

Shakspbare. 



JUSTICE. 



SENTIMENTS, 



Whatsoever 2/e would that men should do unto you, 
do ye even so unto them. 

As to be perfectly just is an attribute of the divine 
nature, so to be just to the utmost of our abilities 
is the glory of a man. 

The defending of a bad cause is worse than the 
cause itself. 

He that passeth a sentence hastily, looks as if 
he did it willingly; and then there is an injustice 
in the excess. 



JUSTICE. 185 

Fidelity and truth are the foundation of all j ustice. 

Justice may be defined that virtue which impels 
to give every person what is his due ; and compre- 
hends the practice of every virtue which reason 
prescribes, or society should expect. Our duty 
to our Maker, to each other, and to ourselves, is 
fully answered, if we give them what we owe 
them. 

EXAMPLES. 

Mahomet, the Second of that name, emperor of 
the Turks, had a son called Mustapha, whom he 
had designed to succeed him in the empire, prone 
to lust, but otherwise a good prince. The young 
prince had fallen in love with the wife of Achmet 
Bassa, a woman of excellent beauty. He had long 
endeavoured to prevail with her by all sorts of al- 
lurements; but this way not succeeding, he would 
try by surprise. He had gained a knowledge of 
the time when the woman went to bathe herself 
(as the Turks often do). He soon followed her, 
with a few of his retinue, and there seized her 
naked, as she was, and, in despite of all the resist- 
ance she could make, ravished her. She told her 
husband, he the emperor, and desired justice. The 
emperor at first seemed to take little notice of it ; 
but soon after, though he had different sentiments 
in his mind, he rated the bassa with sharp lan- 
guage. "What/' says he, "dost thou think it 
meet to complain thus grievously of my son? 
Knowest thou not that both thyself and that wife 
of thine are my slaves, and accordingly at ray dis- 
posal ? If, therefore, my son has embraced her, and 
followed the inclinations of his mind, he has em- 
braced but a slave of mine, and having ray appro- 
bation he hath committed no fault at all : think of 
this, go thy way, and leave the rest to rayself. ,, 
This he said in defence of his absolute empire; but, 



186 JUSTICE. 

ill satisfied in his mind, and vexed at the thing, he sent 
for his son, examined him touching the fact, and, 
having confessed it, dismissed with him threats. 
Three days after, when paternal love to his son and 
justice had striven in his breast, love to justice 
having gained the superiority and victory, he com- 
manded his mutes to strangle his son Mustapha 
with a bowstring, that, by bis death, he might 
make amends to injured and violated chastity. 

Diodes, having made a law, that no man should 
come armed into the public assembly of the people, 
he, through inadvertency, chanced to break that 
law himself; which one observing, and saying " be 
has broken a law he made himself," Diocles turn- 
ing to his accuser, said, with a loud voice, " No 
the law shall have its due ;" and, drawing his 
sword, killed himself. 

A gentleman sent a buck to Judge Hales in his 
circuit, having a cause to be tried before him that 
assize. The cause being called, and the judge 
taking notice of the name, asked, " If he was not 
the person who had presented him with a buck?" 
and finding it to be the same, the judge told him, 
" He could not suffer the trial to go on till he had 
paid for his buck." To which the gentleman an- 
swered, " That he never sold his venison; and that 
he had done no more to him than what he had al- 
ways done to every judge that came that circuit." 
This was confirmed by several gentlemen on the 
bench. But all this would not prevail upon the 
judge; nor would he suffer the trial to proceed till 
he had paid for the venison. 

A certain poor woman having lost a little dog, 
and understanding it to be in the possession of the 
lady of Sir Thomas More, to whom it had been 
made a present of, she went to Sir Thomas, as he 
was sitting in the hall, and told him, " That his 



JUSTICE. 187 

lady withheld her dog from her." Sir Thomas 
immediately ordered his lady to be sent for, and 
the dog to be brought with her; which Sir Thomas 
taking in his hands, caused his lady to stand at 
one end of the hall, and the poor woman at the 
other, and said, "That he sat there to do every 
one justice/' He bid each of them call the dog; 
which, when they did, the dog forsook the lady, 
and went to the poor woman. When Sir Thomas 
saw this, he bid his lady be contented, for it was 
none of hers. But she repining at the sentence, 
the dog was purchased of the poor woman for a 
piece of gold, and so all parties were satisfied, 
every one smiling at the manner of his inquiring 
out the truth. 

At the time that Oliver Cromwell was protector 
of this realm, an English merchant-ship was taken 
in the chops of the Channel, carried into St. Ma- 
loes, and there confiscated upon some groundless 
pretence. As soon as the master of the ship, who 
was an honest Quaker, got home, he presented a 
petition to the protector in council, setting forth 
his case, and praying for redress. Upon hearing 
the petition, the protector told his council, " he 
would take that affair upon himself." and ordered 
the man to attend him the next morning. He 
examined him strictly as to all the circumstances 
of his case; and finding by his answers that he 
was a plain, honest man, and that he had been 
concerned in no unlawful trade, he asked him, "If 
he could go to Paris with a letter?" The man an- 
swered " he could." — " Well then," said the pro- 
tector, "prepare for your journey, and come to me 
to-morrow morning." Next morning he gave him 
a letter to Cardinal Mazarine, and told him he 
must stay but three days for an answer. "The 
answer 1 mean," says he, " is the full value of 



188 JUSTICE. 

what you might have made of your ship and cargo ; 
and tell the cardinal, that if it be not paid you in 
three days, you have express orders from me to 
return home." The honest, blunt Quaker, we 
may suppose, followed his instructions to a tittle ; 
but the cardinal, according to the manner of mi- 
nisters when they are any way pressed, began to 
shuffle : therefore the Quaker returned, as he was 
bid. As soon as the protector saw him, he asked, 
" Well, friend, have you got your money?" And 
upon the man's answering, he had not, the pro- 
tector told him, " Then leave your direction with 
my secretary, and you shall soon hear from me." 
Upon this occasion, that great man did not stay to 
negociate, or to explain, by long, tedious memorials, 
the reasonableness of his demand. No; though 
there was a French minister residing here, he did 
not so much as acquaint him with the story ; but 
immediately sent a man of war or two, with or- 
ders to seize every French ship they could meet 
with. Accordingly they returned in a few days 
with two or three French prizes, which the pro- 
tector ordered to be immediately sold ; and out of 
the produce he paid the Quaker what he demanded 
for the ship and cargo. He then sent for the 
French minister, gave him an account of what had 
happened, and told him there was a balance, 
which, if he pleased, should be paid to him, to the 
end that he might deliver it to those of his country- 
men who were the owners of the French ships that 
had been so taken and sold. 

Zaleucus, lawgiver of the Locrians, made a law 
that adultery should be punished with the loss of 
both the offender's eyes ; and it fell out so un- 
happily, that his own son was the first who 
committed that crime ; and that he might at once 
express the tenderness of a father, and the up- 



JUSTICE. 189 

Tightness of a judge, he caused one of his son's 
eyes to be put out, and one of his own. 

Alexander Severus, one of the Roman emperors, 
instead of leaving the management of his troops 
to the vigilance of his officers, took the pains, in 
all his military expeditions, to visit the tents him- 
self, and inquire if any of the soldiers were absent. 
If he found they were, and, as generally happens 
in such cases, they had left the camp only to 
plunder the country, he never failed to chastise 
their rapacity, either by some corporeal punish- 
ment, or a fine, or, at least, by a severe re^imand, 
which he always concluded, with asking tjem, " if 
they would like to be plundered in the same man- 
ner?" It was likewise his custom, whenever he 
punished an offender, as well against the civil as 
the military law, to address the sufferer either in 
person, or by the officer who was to see the sen- 
tence executed, with this equitable caution : — Do 
nothing to another which you zvould be unwilling 
should be done to yourself. For this golden rule, 
which he borrowed from the Christians, he had 
such an uncommon veneration, that he ordered it 
to be engraved in large capitals over the gate of 
his palace, and on the doors of many other public 
buildings. 

Themistocles once declared, in a full assembly 
of the people, that he had a project to propose, of 
the greatest public utility ; but that he could not 
communicate it to the citizens at large, because 
the success of it depended much on the secrecy 
with which it was executed. He therefore re- 
quested they would appoint a person to whom he 
might explain himself without any danger of dis- 
covery. Aristides (who was so much distinguished 
for his integrity, that he received the glorious sur- 
name of the Just,) was the person fixed upon for 



190 JUSTICE. 

that purpose by the whole assembly. They had 
so great a confidence in his prudence and honesty, 
that they referred the matter entirely to his opi- 
nion. Themistocles, therefore, having taken him 
aside, informed him, that the project he bad con- 
ceived, was to burn the fleet of the Grecian states, 
which then lay in a neighbouring port, called the 
Piraeus; adding that, by this means, Athens would 
become absolute mistress of the sea, and the um- 
pire of all Greece. After this explanation, Aris- 
tides returned to the assembly, and assured them 
that nc^hing could be more beneficial to the re- 
public t^in the project of Themistocles, but, at the 
same time, that nothing could be more unjust and 
dishonourable. On hearing this, the people una- 
nimously voted, that Themistocles should desist 
from his project. This story is the more remark- 
able, as it was not a company of philosophers, but 
a whole state, who issued an order by which they 
deprived themselves of a very considerable advan- 
tage, because the means of obtaining it were not 
agreeable to the rigid dictates of justice. 

Philip, King of Macedon, being urged to inter- 
pose his credit and authority with the judges, in 
behalf of one of his attendants, whose reputation, 
it was said, would be totally ruined by a regular 
course of justice, "Very probably," replied the 
king: but of the two, I had rather he should lose 
his reputation than I mine." — Upon another occa- 
sion, being solicited by his courtiers to dismiss a 
person of merit, who had spoken of him somewhat 
slightingly, " Perhaps," said he, u I have given him 
a sufficient reason." Hearing, soon after, that the 
man was in low circumstances, and greatly perse- 
cuted by the courtiers, he relieved him in a very 
liberal manner. This alteration of behaviour soon 
changed the other's reproaches into the warmest 



JUSTICE. 191 

and most sincere applause; which Philip being 
informed of, " How great," said he, " is the power 
of justice! By the practice or neglect of it, a king 
may make himself either beloved or hated !" 

Cambyses, one of the Kings of Persia, who was 
famous for his unalterable regard to justice, had a 
particular favourite whom he raised to the office 
of a judge: but the ungrateful wretch, depending 
upon the credit he had with his master, prostituted 
the honour of his government, and the rights and 
properties of his fellow-subjects, in such a daring 
manner, that causes were bought and sold in the 
courts of judicature as openly as provisions in 
the market. Avarice was the ruling passion of bis 
soul, and those who would gratify it with the 
richest oblations were always certain of gaining 
their suit. When Cambyses was informed of this, 
he was so much exasperated, that he not only or- 
dered him to be seized, and publicly degraded, 
but to have his skin stripped over his ears, and the 
seat of judgment to be covered with it, as a warn- 
ing to others. To convince the world that he was 
influenced to this extraordinary act of severity bv 
no other motive than the love of justice, he after- 
wards appointed the son to succeed to the office of 
his father. 

Caius Lucius, the nephew of the famous Caius 
Marius, a Roman Consul, having attempted the 
most infamous debauchery upon a young soldier 
of great personal beauty, whose name was Trebo- 
nius, the gallant youth, being fired with indigna- 
tion at the scandalous insult which was offered 
him, stabbed the villain to the heart. As Lucius 
was a military tribune, his death made a great 
noise; but the consul, though much aflected with 
the loss of his nephew, and warmly solicited by 
his flatterers to punish Trebonius as a daring mu- 



192 JUSTICE. 

tineer, not only acquitted him, but rewarded his 
courage, by placing upon his head, with his own 
hand, one of those honorary crowns which w r ere 
bestowed upon soldiers who had signalized them- 
selves by some uncommon act of bravery. The 
whole army applauded the justice of their ge- 
neral ; and the news being afterwards carried to 
Rome, the people were so highly pleased with it, 
that Marius was chosen consul the next year, and 
honoured with the command of the army in Trans- 
alpine Gaul. 

When Charles, duke of Burgundy, surnamed 
the Bora, reigned over spacious dominions, now 
swallowed up by the power of France, he heaped 
many favours and honours upon Claudius Rhyn- 
sault, a German, who had served him in his wars 
against the insults of his neighbours. A great 
part of Zealand was, at that time, in subjection to 
that dukedom. The prince himself was a person 
of singular humanity and justice. Rhynsault, 
with no other real quality than courage, had dis- 
simulation enough to pass upon his generous and 
unsuspicious master for a person of blunt honesty 
and fidelity, without any vice that could bias him 
from the execution of justice. His highness, pre- 
possessed to his advantage, upon the decease of 
the governor of his chief town of Zealand, gave 
Rhynsault that command. He was not long seated 
in that government, before he cast his eyes upon 
Sapphira, a woman of exquisite beauty, the wife of 
Paul Danvelt, a wealthy merchant of the city un- 
der his protection and government. Rhynsault 
was a man of warm constitution, and violent incli- 
nation to women, and not unskilled in the soft 
arts which win their favour. He knew what it 
was to enjoy the satisfactions which are reaped 
from the possession of beauty ; but was an utter 



JUSTICE. 193 

stranger to the decencies, honours and delicacies 
that attend the passion towards them in elegant 
minds. However, he had seen so much of the 
world, that he had a great share of the language 
which usually prevails upon the weaker part of 
that sex, and he could with his tongue utter a pas- 
sion with which his heart was wholly untouched. 
He was one of those brutal minds which can be 
gratified with the violation of innocence and 
beauty, without the least pity, passion, or love to 
that with which they are so much delighted. In- 
gratitude is a vice inseparable to a lustful man; 
and the possession of a woman, by him who has 
no thought but allaying a passion painful* to him- 
self, is necessarily followed by distaste and aver- 
sion. Rhynsault, being resolved to accomplish 
his will on the wife of Danvelt, left no art untried 
to get into a familiarity at her house : but she 
knew his character and disposition too well, not to 
shun all occasions that might ensnare her into his 
conversation. The governor, despairing of success 
by ordinary means, apprehended and imprisoned 
her husband, under pretence of an information 
that he was guilty of a correspondence with the 
enemies of the duke, to betray the town into their 
possession. This design had its desired effect ; 
and the wife of the unfortunate Danvelt, the day 
before that which was appointed for his execution, 
presented herself in the hall of the governor's 
house, and, as he passed through the apartment, 
threw herself at his feet, and, holding his knees, 
besought his mercy. Rhynsault beheld her with 
a dissembled satisfaction, and assuming an air of 
thought and authority, he bid her arise, and told 
her she must follow him to his closet; and asking 
her whether she knew the hand-writing of the letter 
he pulled out of his pocket, went from her, leaving 

K 



194 JUSTICE. 

this admonition aloud: "If you will save your 
husband, you must give an accountof all you know, 
without prevarication; for every body is satisfied 
he was too fond of you to be able to hide from 
you the names of the conspirators, or any other 
particulars whatsoever." He went to his closet, 
and soon after the lady was sent to for an audi- 
ence. The servant knew his distance when mat- < 
ters of state were to be debated ; and the governor, 
laying aside the air with which he appeared in 
public, began to be the supplicant, to rally an af- 
fliction which it was in her power easily to re- 
move, and relieve an innocent man from his impri- 
sonment. She easily perceived his intention, and 
bathed in tears, began to deprecate so wicked a 
design. Lust, like ambition, takes all the facul- 
ties of the mind and body into its service and sub- 
jection. Her becoming tears, her honest anguish, 
the wringing of her hands, and the many changes 
of her posture and figure in the vehemence of 
speaking, were but so many attitudes in which he 
beheld her beauty, and further incentives of his 
desire. All humanity was lost in that one appe- 
tite ; and he signified to her in so many plain 
terms, that he was unhappy till he had possessed 
her, that nothing less should be the price of her 
husband's life; and that she must, before the fol- 
lowing noon, pronounce the death or enlargement 
of Danvelt. After this notification, when he saw 
Sapphira again enough distracted to make the 
subject of their discourse to common eyes appear 
different from what it was, he called his servant to 
conduct her to the gate. Loaded with insupport- 
able affliction, she immediately repaired to her hus- 
band: and having signified to his jailors, that she 
had a proposal to make to her husband from the 
governor, she was left alone with him, revealed to 



JUSTICE. 195 

him all that bad passed, and represented the end- 
less conflict she was in between love to his person, 
and fidelity to his bed. It is easy to imagine the 
sharp affliction this honest pair were in upon such 
an incident, in lives not used to any but ordinary 
occurrences. The man was bridled by shame 
from speaking what his fear prompted upon so near 
an approach to death; but let fall words that sig- 
nified to her that he should not think her polluted, 
though she had not yet confessed to him that the 
governor had violated her person, since he knew 
her will had no part in the action. She parted 
from him with this oblique permission to save a 
life he had not resolution enough to resign for the 
safety of his honour. 

The next morning the unhappy Sapphira at- 
tended the governor, and, being led into a remote 
apartment, submitted to his desires. Rhynsault 
commended her charms, claimed a familiarity 
after what had passed between them, and, with an 
air of gaiety, in the language of a gallant, bid her 
return and take her husband out of prison: i( But," 
continued he, " my fair one must not be offended, 
that I have taken care he shall not be an interrup- 
tion to any of our future assignations." These 
words foreboded what she found when she came to 
the jail — her husband executed by the order of 

Rhvnsault! 
j 

It was remarkable that the woman, who was 
full of tears and lamentations during the whole 
course of her afflictions, uttered neither sigh nor 
complaint, but stood fixed with grief at this con- 
sumaiation of her misfortunes. She betook her- 
self to her abode, and after having in solitude paid 
her devotion to him who is the avenger of inno- 
cence, she repaired privately to court. Her person, 
and a certain grandeur of sorrow, negligent of 



196 JUSTICE. 

forms, gained her a passage into the presence, of 
the duke, her sovereign, she broke forth in the fol- 
lowing words, "Behold, O mighty Charles! a 
wretch weary of life, though it has always been 
spent with innocence and virtue! It is not in 
your power to redress my injuries, but it is to 
avenge them; and, if the protection of the dis- 
tressed, and the punishment of oppressors, is a 
task worthy a prince, I bring the Duke of Bur- 
gundy ample matter for doing honour to his own 
great name, and wiping infamy from mine." 

When she had spoken thus, she delivered the 
duke a paper reciting her story. He read it with 
all the emotions that indignation and pity could 
raise in a prince jealous of his honour in the beha- 
viour of his officers, and prosperity of his subjects. 

Upon an appointed day Rhynsault was sent for 
to court, and, in the presence of a few of the coun- 
cil, confronted by Sapphira; the prince asking, 
" Do you know that lady ?" Rhynsault, as soon as 
he could recover his surprise, told the duke he 
would marry her, if his highness would please to 
think that a reparation. The duke seemed con- 
tented with this answer, and stood by during the 
immediate solemnization of the ceremony. At the 
conclusion of it, he told Rhynsault, u Thus far you 
have done as constrained by my authority; I shall 
not be satisfied of your kind usage of her, without 
you sign a gift of your whole estate to her, after 
your decease." To the performance of this also 
the duke was a witness. When these two acts 
w T ere performed, the duke turned to the lady, and 
told her, " It now remains for me to put you in 
quiet possession of what your husband has so 
bountifully bestowed on you ;" and ordered the 
immediate execution of Rhynsault ! 



197 



LYING. 

SENTIMENTS. 

Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord: but 
such as speak truly are his delight, 

Nothing appears so low and mean as lying and 
dissimulation. It is a vice so very infamous, that 
the greatest liars cannot bear it in any other men. 

A liar is subject to two misfortunes ; neither to 
believe, nor to be believed ; and before he estab- 
lishes one lie he must tell many. There cannot 
be a greater treachery, than first to raise a confi- 
dence, and then to betray it. 

When a man forfeits the reputation of his integ- 
rity, he is set fast: and nothing will then serve his 
turn ; neither truth nor falsehood. 

Truth is so great a perfection, says Pythagoras! 
that if God would render himself visible toman, 
he would choose light for his body, and trpth for 
his soul. 

Truth is always consistent with itself, and needs 
nothing to help it out. It is always near a^ hand, 
sits upon our lips, and is ready to drop out before 
we are aware ; whereas a lie is troublesome, and 
sets a man's imagination upon the rack, and one 
trick needs a great many more to make it good. 
It is like building upon a false foundation, which 
continually stands in need of props to keep it up, 
and proves at last more chargeable than to have 
raised a substantial building at first upon a true 
and solid foundation : for sincerity is firm and sub- 



198 



LYING. 



stantial, there is nothing hollow or unsound in 
it, and, because it is plain and open, fears no dis- 
covery, of which the crafty man is always in dan- 
ger; and when he thinks he walks in the dark, all 
his pretences are so transparent, that he that runs 
may read them ; he is the last man that finds him- 
self to be found out ; and while he takes it for 
granted that he makes fools of others, he renders 
himself ridiculous. 

EXAMPLES. 

It is said of Augustus Ceesar, that, after a long 
inquiry into all the parts of his empire, he found 
but one man who was accounted never to have told 
a lie: for which cause he was deemed worthy to 
be the chief sacrificer in the Temple of Truth. 

Epaminondas, the Theban general, was so great 
a lover of truth, that he was ever careful lest his 
tongue should in the least digress from it, even 
when he was most in sport. 

Cato the younger charged Murssna, and indicted 
him in open court for popularity and ambition, de- 
claring against him, that he sought indirectly to 
gain the people's favour, and their voices, to be 
chosen consul. As he went up and down to col- 
lect arguments and proof thereof, according to the 
manner and customs of the Romans, he was at- 
tended upon by certain persons who followed him 
in behalf of the defendant, to observe what was 
done, for his better instruction in the process and 
suit commenced. These men would oftentimes 
converse with Cato, and ask him, whether he would 
to-day search for aught, or negociate any thing in 
the matter and cause concerning Mursena? If he 
said, " No," such credit and trust they reposed in 
the veracity of the man, they would rest in that 



LYING. 199 

answer and go their ways. A singular proof this 
was of the reputation he had gained, and the great 
and good opinion men had conceived of him con- 
cerning his love of truth. 

Xenocrates, an Athenian philosopher, lived 300 
years before Christ, and was educated in the 
school of Plato. The people of Athens enter- 
tained so high an opinion of his probity, that one 
day when he approached the altar, to confirm by 
an oath the truth of what he asserted, the judges 
unanimously declared his word to be sufficient 
evidence. 

The duke of Ossuna, as he passed by Barcelona, 
having got leave to relieve some slaves, went aboard 
the Cape galley, and passing through the slaves, 
he asked divers of them what their offences were. 
Every one excused himself: one saying, that he 
was put in out of malice ; another by bribery of 
the judge ; but all of them unjustly. Among the 
rest, there was one little sturdy black man, and the 
duke asked him what he was in for? "Sir," said 
he, " I cannot deny but I am justly put in here ; for 
I wanted money, and so took a purse near Tarra- 
gona, to keep me from starving." The duke, with 
a little staff he had in his hand, gave him two or 
three blows upon the shoulders, saying, " You 
rogue, what do you do among so many honest, in- 
nocent men? Get you gone out of their company. " 
So he was freed, and the rest remained to tug at 
the oar. 

"I remember," says Lord Herbert, ic that at the 
time I was about seven years old, I was corrected 
for going to cuffs with two school-fellows, being 
both older than myself; but never for telling a lie, 
or any other fault; my natural disposition and in- 
clination being so contrary to all falsehood, that 
being demanded whether I had committed any 



200 LYING. 

fault, whereof I might justly be suspected, I did 
use ever to confess it freely; and thereupon choos- 
ing rather to suffer correction than to stain my 
mind with telling a lie, which I did adjudge then 
no time could ever efface; and I can affirm to all 
the world truly, that from my first infancy to this 
hour, I told not willingly any thing that was false, 
my soul naturally having an antipathy to lying and 
deceit." 

Petrarch, a celebrated Italian poet, who flou- 
rished above 400 years ago, recommended himself 
to the confidence and affection of Cardinal Co- 
lonna, in whose family he resided, by his candour 
and strict regard to truth. A violent quarrel oc- 
curred in the household of this nobleman, which 
was carried so far, that recourse was had to arms. 
The cardinal wished to know the foundation of this 
affair; and, that he might be able to decide with 
justice, he assembled all his people, and obliged 
them to bind themselves by a most solemn oath on 
the gospels, to declare the whole truth. Every 
one, without exception, submitted to this determi- 
nation; even the Bishop of Luna, brother to the 
cardinal, was not excused. Petrarch, in his turn, 
presenting himself to take the oath, the cardinal 
closed the book, and said, "As to you, Petrarch, 
your word is sufficient." 

A pretender to literature, having once owned a 
copy of verses which Lord Somers wrote, was asked 
by his lordship, when he was presented to him as 
lord chancellor, whether he was really the author 
of the lines in question. "Yes, my lord," replied 
the pretended poet. "It is a trifle; I did it off- 
hand." On hearing this, Lord Somers burst into 
aloud fit of laughter, and the gentleman withdrew 
in the greatest confusion. 

To show us how incompatiable true courage is 



LYING. 201 

with the least degree of falsehood, the invincible 
Achilles, the hero of the Iliad, is introduced by 
Homer as saying these memorable words, " I de- 
test, as the gates of hell itself, the wretch who has 
the baseness to mean one thing and speak another/' 

When Aristotle was asked, what a man could 
gain by telling a falsehood? — "Not to be cre- 
dited," said he, "when he speaks the truth." 

Appollonius, another philosopher, used to say, 
"That the wretch who has been mean enough to 
be guilty of a lie, has forfeited every claim to the 
character of a gentleman, and degraded himself to 
the rank of a slave." 

Our ingenious countryman, Sir Thomas Brown, 
has expressed himself in still more remarkable 
terms: "The very devils," says he, "do not tell 
lies to one another; for truth is necessary to all 
societies, nor can the society of hell subsist with- 
out it." 

Dr. Hawkesworth exhibits the folly of this prac- 
tice in a very interesting manner. — "Almost every 
other vice," says that excellent writer, "may be 
kept in countenance by applause and association; 
and even the robber and the cut-throat have their 
followers, who admire their address and intrepidity, 
their stratagems of rapine, and their fidelity to the 
gang: but the liar, and only the liar, is universally 
despised, abandoned and disowned. He has no 
domestic consolations, which he can oppose to the 
censure of mankind. He can retire to no frater- 
nity, where his crimes may stand in the place of 
virtues; but is given up to the hisses of the multi- 
tude, without a friend, and without an apologist.''* 

Mendaculus was a youth of good parts, and of 

amiable disposition; but, by keeping bad company, 

he had contracted, in an extreme degree, the odious 

practice of lying. His word was scarcelv ever be- 

k 2 



202 LYING. 

lieved by his friends ; and he was often suspected 
of faults, because he denied the commission of 
them, and punished for offences of which he was 
convicted only by his assertions of innocence. The 
experience of every day manifested the disadvan- 
tages which he suffered from this habitual viola- 
tion of truth. He had a garden, stocked with the 
choicest flowers ; and the cultivation of it was his 
favourite amusement. It happened that the cattle 
of the adjoining pasture had broken down the 
fence ; and he found them trampling upon and de- 
stroying a bed of fine auriculas. He could not 
drive these ravagers away, without endangering 
the still more valuable productions of the next par- 
terre ; and he hastened to request the assistance 
of the gardener. " You intend to make a fool of 
me/' said the man, who refused to go, as he gave 
no credit to the relation of Mendaculus. One 
frosty day, his father had the misfortune to be 
thrown from his horse, and to fracture his thigh. 
Mendaculus was present, and was deeply af- 
fected by the accident, but had not strength to 
afford the necessary help. He was therefore 
obliged to leave him, in this painful condition, on 
the ground, which was at that time covered with 
.snow ; and with all the expedition in his power, he 
rode to Manchester, to solicit the aid of the first 
benevolent person he should meet with. His cha- 
racter, as a liar, was generally known; few to 
whom he applied paid attention to his story; and 
no one believed it. After losing much time in 
fruitless entreaties, he returned with a sorrowful 
heart, and with his eyes bathed in tears, to the 
place where the accident happened. But his father 
was removed from thence : a coach fortunately 
passed that way; he was taken into it, and con- 
veyed to his own house, whither Mendaculus soon 



LYING. 203 

followed him. A lusty boy, of whom Mendaculus 
had told some falsehood, often waylaid him as he 
went to school, and beat him with great severity. 
Conscious of his ill desert, Mendaculus bore, for 
some sime, in silence, this chastisement; but the 
frequent repetition of it, at last overpowered his re- 
solution, and he complained to his father of the 
usage he met with. His father, though dubious 
of the truth of this account, applied to the parents 
of the boy who abused him. But he could obtain 
no redress from them, and only received the fol- 
lowing painful answer: — " Your son is a notorious 
liar, and we pay no regard to his assertions." Men- 
daculus was therefore obliged to submit to the 
wonted correction till full satisfaction had been 
taken by his antagonist for the injury which he 
had sustained. Such were the evils in which this 
unfortunate youth almost daily involved himself by 
the habit of lying. He was sensible of his mis- 
conduct, and began to reflect upon it with serious- 
ness and contrition. Resolutions of amendment 
succeeded to penitence ; he set a guard upon his 
words ; spoke little, and always with caution and 
reserve; and he soon found by sweet experience, 
that truth is more easy and natural than falsehood. 
By degrees, the love of it became predominant in 
his mind; and so sacred at length did he hold ve- 
racity to be, that he scrupled even the least jocular 
violation of it. This happy change restored him to 
the esteem of his friends, the confidence of the 
public, and the peace of his own conscience. 



204 



PASSION. 

SENTIMENT. 

Make no friendship with an angry man; and with a 
furious man thou shalt not go : lest thou learn his 
ways, and get a snare to thy soul. 

Passion is a fever of the mind, which ever leaves 
us weaker than it found us. It is the threshold of 
madness and insanity: indeed, they are so much 
alike, that they sometimes cannot be distinguished; 
and their effects are often equally fatal. 

The first step to moderation is to perceive that 
we are falling into a passion. It is much easier 
wholly to prevent ourselves from falling into a pas- 
sion, than to keep it within just bounds; that 
which few can moderate, almost any body may 
prevent. 

Envy and wrath shorten life; and anxiety 
bringeth age before its time. We ought to dis- 
trust our passions, even when they appear the most 
reasonable. 

Who overcomes his passion, overcomes his 
strongest enemy. If we do not subdue our anger, 
it will subdue us. 

A passionate temper renders a man unfit for ad- 
vice, deprives him of reason, robs him of all that is 
great or noble in his nature, destroys friendship, 
changes justice into cruelty, and turns all order 
into confusion. 



PASSION. 20^ 



EXAMPLES. 

Augustus, who was prone to anger, received th$ 
following letter from Athenodorus, the philosopher : 
That, so soon as he should feel the first emotion to- 
wards anger, he should repeat deliberately all the 
letters of the alphabet; for that anger was easily 
prevented, but not so easily subdued. To repress 
anger, it is a good method to turn the injury into a 
jest. Socrates having received a blow on the head, 
observed, that it would be well if people knew 
when it were necessary to put on a helmet. Being 
kicked by a boisterous fellow, and his friends won- 
dering at his patience, " What!" said he, "if an ass 
should kick me, must I call him before a judge?" 
Being attacked with opprobrious language, he 
calmly observed that the man was not yet taught 
to speak respectfully. 

Caesar, having found a collection of letters, writ- 
ten by his enemies to Porapey, burnt them with- 
out reading: "For," said he, "though I am upon 
my guard against anger, yet it is safer to remove 
its cause." 

Cotys, king of Thrace, having got a present of 
earthen vessels, exquisitely wrought, but ex- 
tremely brittle, broke them into pieces, that he 
might not have occasion of anger against his ser- 
vants. 

Antigonus, king of Syria, hearing two of his sol- 
diers reviling him behind his tent, " Gentlemen/' 
says he, opening the curtain, "remove to a greater 
distance, for your king hears you/ 1 

A farmer, who had stepped into his field to mend 
a gap in a fence, found, at his return, the cradle, 
where he had left his only child asleep, turned up- 
side down, the clothes all bloody, and his dog lying 



206 PASSION. 

in the same place, besmeared also with blood. 
Convinced, by the sight, that the creature had 
destroyed his child, he dashed out its brains 
with the hatchet in his hand; then, turning up 
the cradle, he found the child unhurt, and an enor- 
mous serpent lying dead on the floor, killed by 
that faithful dog which he put to death in blind 
passion. 

Field Marshal Turenne being in great want of 
provisions, quartered his army, by force, in the 
town of St. Michael. Complaints were carried to 
the Marshal de la Ferte, under whose government 
that town was ; who being highly disobliged by 
what was done to his town without his authority, 
insisted to have the troops instantly dislodged. 
Some time after, La Ferte, seeing a soldier of 
Turenne's guards out of his place, beat him se- 
verely. The soldier, all bloody, complained to 
his general, but was instantly sent back to La Ferte, 
with the following compliment: "That Turenne 
was much concerned to find his soldier had failed 
in his respect to him, and begged the soldier might 
be punished as he thought proper." The whole 
army w T as astonished; and La Ferte himself, being 
surprised, cried out, "What! is this man to be 
always wise, and I alwa)^s a fool?" 

A young gentleman, in the streets of Paris, 
being interrupted by a coach, in his passage, struck 
the coachman, A tradesman from his shop, cried 
out, "What! beat the Marshal Turenne's people!" 
Hearing that name, the gentleman, quite out of 
countenance, flew to the coach to make his excuse. 
The marshal said, smiling, "You understand, Sir, 
how to correct servants : allow me to send mine to 
you when they do amiss/' 

The marshal being one day alone in a box at the 
playhouse, some gentlemen came in, who, not 



PASSION. 207 

knowing him, would oblige him to yield his seat in 
the first row. They had the insolence, upon his 
refusal, to throw his hat and gloves on the stage. 
The marshal, without being moved, desired a lord 
of the first quality to hand them up to him. The 
gentlemen finding who he was, blushed, and 
would have retired; but he, with much good hu- 
mour, entreated them to stay, saying that, if they 
would sit close, there was room enough for 
them all. 

Clytus was a person whom Alexander held very 
dear, as being the son of his nurse, and one who 
had been educated together w T ith himself. He had 
saved the life of Alexander, at the battle near the 
river Granicus, and was by him made the prefect 
of a province: but he could not flatter; and de- 
testing the effeminacy of the Persians, at a feast 
with the king, he spake with the liberty of a Mace- 
donian. Alexander, transported with anger, slew 
him with his own hands; though, when his heat 
was over, he was with difficulty restrained from 
killing himself for that fault which his sudden fury 
had excited him to commit. 

Herod, the tetrarch of Judea, had so little com- 
mand over his passion, that, upon every slight oc- 
casion, his anger would transport him into abso 
lute madness. In such a desperate fit he killed 
Josippus. Sometimes he would be sorry, and re- 
pent of the folly and injuries he had done when 
anger had clouded his understanding, and soon 
after commit the same outrages ; so that none 
about him were sure of their lives a moment. 

L'Alviano, general of the Venetian armies, was 
taken prisoner by the troops of Louis XII. and 
brought before him. The king treated him with 
his usual humanity and politeness, to which the 
indignant captive did not make the proper return, 



208 PASSION. 

but behaved with great insolence. Louis con- 
tented himself with sending him to the quarters 
where the prisoners were kept, saying to his at- 
tendants, " I have done right to send Alviano 
away. I might have put myself in a passion 
with him, for which I should have been sorry. I 
have conquered him; I should learn to conquer 
myself." 

When Catharine de Medicis one day overheard 
some of the soldiers abusing her extremely, the 
Cardinal of Lorraine said he would order them im- 
mediately to be hung. " By no means/' exclaimed 
the princess : " I wish posterity to know, that a 
woman, a queen, and an Italian, has once in her 
life got the better of her anger." 

The Duke of Marlborough possessed great 
command of temper, and never permitted it to be 
ruflrcd by little things, in which even the greatest 
men have been occasionally found unguarded. 
As he was one day riding with commissary Mar- 
riot, it began to rain, and he called to his servant 
for his cloak. The servant not bringing it imme- 
diately, he called for it again. The servant being 
embarrassed with the straps and buckles, did not 
come up to him. At last it raining very hard, the 
duke called to him again, and asked him what he 
was about that he did not bring his cloak. — "You 
must stay, Sir," grumbles the fellow, "if it rains 
cats and dogs, till I can get at it." The duke 
turned round to Marriot, and said, very coolly, 
" now I would not be of that fellow's temper for 
all the world." 

^ Two gentlemen were riding together, one of 
whom, who was very choleric, happened to be 
mounted on a very high-mettled horse. The horse 
grew a little troublesome, at which the rider be- 
came very angry, and whipped and spurred him 



PASSION. 209 

with great fury. The horse, almost as wrong- 
headed as his master, returned his treatment with 
kicking and plunging. The companion, con- 
cerned for the danger, and ashamed of the folly of 
his friend, said to him, coolly, " Be quiet, and 
shew yourself the wiser creature of the two,' 5 



210 



PLEASURE. 



SENTIMENT. 



Rejoice, O young man, in thy youth, and let thy 
heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth; and 
walk in the ways of thy heart, and in the sight of 
thine eyes : But know thou, that, for all these things, 
God will bring thee to judgment. 

Plmsures, unless wholly innocent, never con- 
tinue so long as the sting they leave behind them. 

Let pleasure be ever so innocent, the excess is 
always criminal. 

The temperate man's pleasures are durable, be- 
cause they are regular; and all his life is calm and 
serene, because it is innocent* 

Pleasures, while they flatter a man, sting him 
to death: they are short, false, and deceitful, and 
revenge the merry madness of one hour with the 
sad repentance of many. 

The only true and solid pleasure results from the 
reflection of having done our duty to our God, our 
fellow-creatures and ourselves: "having a consci- 
ence void of offence towards God and towards all 
men.'" 

JN"o pleasure can be true, or pursued with pro- 
priety and wisdom, which makes too large inroads 
on our time, our fortune, our health, our charac- 
ter, or our duty. 



PLEASURE. 211 



EXAMPLES. 



The following portrait of vicious pleasure is 
given by an ingenious writer, after the manner of 
Plato. "Pleasure/' says he, " is a beautiful harlot 
sitting in her chariot, whose four wheels are pride, 
gluttony, lust and idleness. The two horses are 
prosperity and abundance ; the two drivers are in- 
dolence and security; her attendants and follow- 
ers are guilt, grief, late repentance (if any), and 
often death and ruin. Many great men, many 
strong men, many rich men, many hopeful men, 
and many young men, have come to their end by 
her; but never any enjoyed full and true content 
by means of her." 

The excellence of the allegory subjoined may 
stand as an apology for its length. " When Her- 
cules," says the venerable moralist, " w 7 as in that 
part of his youth in which it was natural for him 
to consider what course of life he ought to pursue, 
he one day retired into a desert, where the silence 
and solitude of the place very much favoured his 
meditations. As he was musing on his present 
condition, and very much perplexed in his mind on 
the state of life he should choose, he saw two 
women, of a larger stature than ordinary, ap- 
proaching towards him. One of them had a very 
noble air and graceful deportment ; her beauty was 
natural and easy, her person clean and unspotted, 
her eyes cast toward the ground with an agree- 
able reserve, her motion and behaviour full of 
modesty, and her raiment white as snow. The 
other had a great deal of health and floridness in 
her countenance, which she had helped with an 
artificial colouring, and endeavoured to appear 
more than ordinarily graceful in her mien, by a 
mixture of affectation in all her gestures. She 



212 PLEASURE. 

had a wonderful confidence and assurance in her 
looks, and all the variety of colours in her dress, 
that she thought were the most proper to shew her 
complexion to an advantage. She cast her eyes 
upon herself, then turned them on those who were 
present, to see how they liked her, and often looked 
on the figure she made in her own shadow. Upon 
her nearer approach to Hercules, she stepped be- 
fore the other lady, who came forward with a re- 
gular, composed carriage, and running up to him, 
accosted him in the following manner: "My dear 
Hercules, I find you are very much divided in 
your own thoughts upon the way of life which 
you ought to choose. Be my friend, and follow 
me. I'll lead you into the possession of pleasure, 
out of the reach of pain, and remove you from all 
the noise and disquietude of business. The af- 
fairs either of war or peace shall have no power 
to disturb you. Your whole employment shall be 
to make your life easy, and to entertain every 
sense with its proper gratification. Surpptuous 
tables, beds of roses, clouds of perfumes, concerts 
of music, crowds of beauties, are all in readiness 
to receive you. Come along with me into this 
region of delights, this world of pleasure, and bid 
farewell for ever to care, to pain, to business." 
Hercules, hearing the fair inviter talk after this 
manner, interrupted her a moment, to inquire her 
name. To which she answered, " My friends, 
and those who are well acquainted with me, call 
me Happiness ; but my enemies, and those who 
would injure my reputation, have given me the 
name of Pleasure." By this time the other lady 
was come up, who addressed herself to the young 
hero in a very different manner. " Hercules/' 
said she, " I offer myself to you because I know 
you are descended from the gods, and give proofs 



PLEASURE. 213 

of that descent by your love of virtue, and applica- 
tion to the studies proper for your age. This 
makes me hope you will gain both for yourself 
and me an immortal reputation. But, before I 
invite you into my society and friendship, I will 
be open and sincere with you, and must lay down 
this as an established truth, That there is nothing 
truly valuable, which can be purchased without 
pain or labour. The gods have set a price upon 
every real and noble pleasure. If you would gain 
the favour of the Deity, you must be at the 
pains of worshipping him ; if the friendship of 
good men, you must study to oblige them ; 
if you would be honoured by your country, 
you must take care to serve it. In short, if you 
would be eminent in war or peace, you must be- 
come master of all the qualifications that can 
make you so. These are the only terms and con- 
ditions upon which I can propose happiness/' 
Here (continues the fabulist) the goddess of Plea- 
sure broke in upon the discourse. "You see, 
Hercules, by her own confession, that the way to 
her pleasure is long and difficult; whereas that 
which I propose is short and easy." "Alas !" re- 
turned the other amiable figure, whose visage 
glowed with a passion made up of scorn and pity, 
"what are the pleasures you propose? To eat be- 
fore you are hungry; to drink before you are 
athirst; to sleep before you are tired; to gratify 
appetites before they are raised, and to raise such 
appetites as nature never planted! You never 
heard the most delicious music, which is the praise 
of one's self; nor saw the most beautiful object, 
which is the work of one's own hands. Your vo- 
taries pass away their youth in a dream of mis- 
taken pleasure, while they are hoarding up an- 
guish, torment, and remorse, for old age. As for 



214 PLEASURE. 

me, I am the friend of the godsend of good men; 
an agreeable companion to ihe artisan, a house- 
hold guardian to the fathers of families, a patron 
and protector of servants, an associate in all true 
and generous friendships. The banquets of my 
votaries are never costly, but always delicious; for 
none eat or drink at them who are not invited by 
hunger and thirst. Their slumbers are sound, and 
their waking hours are cheerful. My young men 
have the pleasure of hearing themselves praised 
by those who are in years ; and they who are in 
years, of being honoured by those who are young. 
In a word, my followers are favoured by the gods/ 
beloved by their acquaintances, esteemed by their 
country, and, after the close of their labours, ho- 
noured by their posterity, and received up into 
heaven." "Here/' says the mythologist, "they 
ended." We know by the account we have of 
the life of this memorable hero in ancient story, to 
which of these two fair advocates he gave up bis| 
heart. And I believe every one who reads this \nm 
do him the justice to approve his choice of virt/u4fi 
in preference to voluptuousness and vicious \nd\Mi 
gence. |p, 

Apicius was a great epicure, according to tK$;7 
low and vulgar sense of the word ; but Apicij: 
was not a Pliny, and yet Apicius had his pleasures 
He had eaten, it seems, of a certain fish, at Mink 
turna, in Campania, but he was told that the spe* 
cies was much larger in Africa. Upon this he 
immediately equipped a vessel, and set sail for that 
coast. The navigation was difficult and danger- 
ous: but what will not hunger do? Apicius was 
a man of pleasure and appetite; every league he 
travelled increased the necessity of gratification. 
When they arrived on the coast of Africa, several 
fishing boats, already apprised of his voyage, came 



PLEASURE. 215 

to him, and brought him some of the fishes in 
question; when, how great was his surprise and 
chagrin, to find they were not at all bigger than 
those of Minturna! Instantly, therefore, without 
being touched with the rational curiosity of seeing 
a country he had never witnessed before, without 
any regard to the prayers of the people in his train, 
who wanted the refreshments of the shore, Api- 
cius ordered his pilots to return to Italy, and thus 
ended his memorable adventure. 

It is with great satisfaction that w 7 e can quote 
the following, in honour of a living and exemplary 
character, and not unsuitable to the subject before 
us. Mr. Boswell, in his account of General Paoli, 
observes, " That his notions of morality are high 
and refined; such as become the father of a na- 
tion. He told me, one day, that his father had 
brought him up with great strictness, and that he 
had very seldom deviated from the paths of virtue: 
that this was not from a defect of feeling and pas- 
sion, but that his mind being filled with import- 
ant objects, his passions were employed in more 
noble pursuits than those of licentious pleasure. 
I saw," continues the author, " from Paoli's ex- 
ample, the great art of preserving young men of 
spirit from the contagion of vice, in which there 
is often a species of sentiment, ingenuity, and 
enterprise, nearly allied to virtuous qualities. 
Shew a young man that there is more real spirit in 
virtue than in vice, and you have a surer hold of 
him during his years of impetuosity and passion, 
than by convincing his judgment of all the recti- 
tude of ethics." 

A boy, smitten with the colours of a butterfly, 
pursued it, from flower to flower, with indefatiga- 
ble pains. First, he aimed to surprise it among 
the leaves of a rose: then to cover it with his hat. 



216 PLEASURE. 

as it was feeding on a daisy; now hoped to secure 
it as it revelled on a sprig of myrtle; and now grew 
sure of his prize, perceiving it to loiter on a bed of 
violets. But the fickle fly still eluded his at- 
tempts. At last, observing it half buried in the 
cup of a tulip, he rushed forward, and, snatching 
it with violence, crushed it to pieces. The dying 
insect, seeing the poor boy chagrined at his disap- 
pointment, addressed him with the calmness of a 
Stoic, in the following words : " Behold, now the 
end of thy unprofitable solicitude; and learn, for 
the benefit of thy future life, that all pleasure is 
but a painted butterfly ; which may serve to 
amuse thee in the pursuit, but, if embraced with 
too much ardour, will perish in thy grasp." 



217 



PRIDE. 



SENTIMENTS. 



Pride was not made for man. 
Pride goeth before destruction, and a high mind be- 
fore a fall. 

That extraordinary value which men are apt to 
put upon themselves, on account of real or imagi- 
nary excellence of mind, body or fortune, and the 
contempt with which they regard all those who, 
on comparison, seem inferior to them in those 
qualifications on which they have grounded the 
esteem they have for themselves, constitute that 
vice which we call Pride. There is no passion 
which steals into the heart more imperceptibly, 
which covers itself under more disguises, or which 
mankind in general are more subject to, than this. 
It is originally founded on self-love, which is the 
most intimate and inseparable passion of human 
nature ; and yet man hath nothing to be proud of; 
every man hath his weak side; there is no such 
thing as perfection in the present state. The few 
advantages we possess want only to be properly 
considered, to convince us how little they are to 
be boasted of, or gloried in. 

The whole of our bodily perfections may be 
summed up in two words, strength, and beauty. 
As for the first, that is a poor qualification to boast 
of, in which w r e are, to say the least, equalled bv 
the plodding ox, and stupid ass. Beside, it is but 



218 



PRIDE. 



a few days sickness, or the loss of a little blood, 
and a Hercules becomes as manageable as a little 
child. Who, then, would boast of what is so 
very uncertain and precarious ? As to beauty, that 
fatal ornament of the fair sex, which has exhausted 
the human wit in raptures in its praise, which so 
often proves the misfortune of its possessor, and 
the disquietude of him who gives himself to the 
admiration of it; which has ruined cities, armies, 
and the virtue of thousands ; what is beauty ? A 
pleasing glare of white and red reflected from a 
skin incomparably exceeded by the glossy hue of 
the humble daisy in yonder field ; the mild glitter 
of an eye, outshone by every dew-drop on the ver- 
dant grass. Is it inherent in the human frame ? 
No : a sudden fright alarms her ; a fit of sickness 
attacks her ; the roses fly from her cheeks ; her 
eyes lose their fire ; she looks haggard, pale, and 
ghastly. Even in all the blooming pride of beauty, 
what is the human frame? A mass of corruption, 
filth, and disease, covered over with a fair skin. 
When the animating spirit flies, and leaves the 
lovely tabernacle behind, how soon does horror 
succeed to admiration ! How do we hasten to hide 
from our sight the loathsome remains of beauty! 
Open the charnel-house in which, a very little 
while ago, the celebrated toast was laid, who can 
now bear to look on that face, shrivelled, ghastly 
and loathsome, so lately the delightof every youth- 
ful gazer ? Who could now touch her with one 
finger? Her, whose very steps the enamoured 
youth wonld late have kissed ! Can the lover him- 
self go near without stopping his nose at her who 
used to breathe, in his esteem, all the perfumes of 
blooming spring ? 

The accomplishments of the mind may likewise 
be said to be but two, knowledge and virtue. Is 



PRIDE. 219 

there any reason to be proud of the poor attain- 
ments we can, in the present state, gain in know- 
ledge, of which the perfection is to know our own 
weakness ; or, as Socrates said, to know that we 
know nothing ? Is that an accomplishment to be 
boasted of, which a blow on the head, or a week's 
illness may utterly destroy ? As to our attainments 
in virtue or religion, to be proud on these accounts 
would be to be proud of what we do not possess : 
for pride would annihilate all our virtues, and ren- 
der our religion vain. For we all know that humi- 
lity is one of the first dictates of true religion. 

All the wits of almost every age and country 
have exposed, with all the strength of wit and good 
sense, the vanity of a man's valuing himself upon 
his ancestors ; and have endeavoured to shew that 
true grandeur consists not in birth or titles, but in 
virtue alone. That man who is insolent or arro- 
gant, on account of his possessions, richly deserves 
that hatred and contempt he unavoidably meets. 
This fool knows not the proper use of what he pos- 
sesses ; no wonder, then, that he utterly mistakes 
its real value. 

EXAMPLES. 

Sethos, king of Egypt, growing mighty, grew, 
at the same time, so proud, that he made his tri- 
butary kings draw his chariot, in the place of 
horses: but observing!: one of the kings to look 
very earnestly on the wheel, and demanding why 
he did so, the degraded monarch replied, " I am 
comforting myself under my misfortune, by observ- 
ing that the lowermost spokes of the wheel be- 
come uppermost in turn." Sethos took the hint, 
and discontinued the custom. 

Pharaoh Ophra, called also Apryes, used to boast 



220 PRIDE. 

that he cared neither for God nor man, that would 
wish to deprive him of his kingdom. Not long, 
however, had he reigned, ere he was strangled by 
Amasis, one of his own officers. 

Alexander the Great was so elated with pride by 
the sway of his arms, that he caused it to be given 
out that he was the son of Jupiter Amnion, and 
claimed to be worshipped with divine honours. 
His friend Calisthenes, the philosopher, venturing 
to remonstrate with him on his impiety, lost his 
favour, and was afterwards slain by his command* 

Menecrates, the physician, having cured some 
dangerous and desperate diseases, assumed to him- 
self the name of Jupiter, the chief of the gods. 

So Empedocles, the philosopher, having cured a 
person of a dangerous distemper, and observing 
that the people almost deified him, thought fit to 
throw himself into the burning mountain of ^Etna, 
to prove himself immortal, and be translated inta 
the number of the gods. 

Cyrus, the first king of the Persians, suffered 
himself to be worshipped with divine honours: as 
did also Antiochus, king of Syria. 

Caligula, the Roman emperor, commanded that 
he should be worshipped as a god, and caused a 
temple to be erected for him. He built also his 
house in the capitol, so that he might dwell with 
Jupiter ; but being angry that Jupiter was still pre- 
ferred before him, he afterwards erected a temple 
in his palace, and would have the statue of Jupi- 
ter Olympus in his form brought thither ; the ship, 
however, which was sent for it, was broken in 
pieces by a thunderbolt. He used to sit in the 
middle of the images of the gods, and caused the 
most rare and costly fowls and birds to be sacri- 
ficed to him. He had also certain instruments, 
made, whereby he imitated thunder and lightning, 



PRIDE. 



221 



and, when it really thundered, he used to cast 
stones towards heaven, saying, "Either thou shalt 
kill me or I will kill thee ; with other blasphemies, 
which we do not think proper to repeat in this 
work. 

Domitian, Heliogabalus, Commodus, and Dio- 
cletian claimed to be gods, and fell little short of 
the excesses of Caligula. 

Curius Dentatus, the Roman consul, overthrew 
the Samnites in a great battle, and, pursuing them 
to the sea, took many prisoners; and, in the pride 
of his heart, on returning to Rome, publicly 
boasted that he had taken so much land as would 
have turned to a waste wilderness, if he had not 
taken so many men to plant it ; and that he had 
taken so many men, that they would have perished 
with famine, if he had not taken so much land to 
maintain them. 

Pompey the Great, when he heard that Julius 
Caesar was coming with his army towards Rome, 
boasted in the senate that, if he did but stamp with 
his foot, he could fill Italy with armies ; yet, when 
afterwards he heard that Caesar had passed the 
river Rubicon, he fled from Italy into Epirus. 

Poppoea Sabina, wife of Nero, was excessively 
proud, Her mules had bridles and furniture of 
gold, were shod with silver, and sometimes with 
gold. She kept five hundred female asses always v 
about her court, in whose milk she often bathed 
her body, for so careful was she of her skin, that 
she wished to die before that should suffer wrinkles 
or decay. 

Xerxes having made a bridge of boats over the 
Hellespont, for the passage of his immense army 
from Asia into Europe, a tempest arose and de- 
stroyed it ; upon which he caused his men to give 
the sea three hundred stripes, and to throw chains 



\ 



222 PRIDE. 

in it to bind it to its good behaviour; which office 
was performed, accompanied with these arrogant 
expressions ; " Unruly water, thy lord has ordered 
thee this punishment; and, whether thou wilt or 
no, he is resolved to pass over thee." 

The Khan of Tartary was used, when he had 
dined, to cause trumpets to be sounded at his 
palace gates, to give notice to all the kings in the 
world that, as the great Khan had dined, they had 
then permission to go to dinner. 

A poor Spanish cobler, on his death-bed, being 
solicited by his son for his blessing, strictly en- 
joined him always to retain the majesty of his 
family. 

A poor woman in Spain, attended by three of 
her children, went begging from door to door. 
Some French merchants, out of compassion, offer- 
ed to take the eldest of her sons into their service; 
but, with true Spanish pride, she rejected the pro- 
posal ; scorning, as she said, that any of her family 
should be disgraced by servitude ; as, for aught 
they knew, simple as he stood there, he might live 
to be one day king of Spain. 

John O'Neal, father to the Earl of Tyr Owen, 
inscribed himself in all places, "The great John 
O'Neal, friend to Queen Elizabeth, and foe to all the 
world besides." 

When no one else would exalt Hildebrand to the 
pope's chair, he placed himself in it, saying, 
" Who can betterjudge of my worth than myself V! 

Xerxes, in his expedition against Greece, call- 
ing his princes together, thus addressed them : 
"That I may not appear to follow my own counsel, 
I have assembled you : but recollect, that it bet- 
ter becomes you to obey than to advise." 

Attila, king of the Huns, proudly gave out that 
the stars fell before him, that the earth trembled 



PRIDE. 



223 



at his presence, and that he would be the scourge 
of nations; yet, after all his pride, a flux of blood 
broke out at his mouth, and choked him on his 
wedding-night. 

Cleopes, king of Egypt, began to build an im- 
mense pyramid ; but wanting money to finish it, 
and having a beautiful daughter, he prostituted her 
amon^his workmen to get money to accomplish 
his great work, which he left a perpetual monu- 
ment of his pride, folly, and wickedness. 

Croesus, king of Lydia, having expressed an 
extraordinary inclination to see Solon, that philo- 
sopher repaired to Sardis to pay him a visit. — 
The first time he was presented, the king received 
him, seated on his throne, and dressed on purpose 
in his most sumptuous robes; but Solon appeared 
not the least astonished at the sight of such a 
glare of magnificence. 

" My friend," said Croesus to him, " Fame has 
every where reported thy wisdom. I know you 
have seen many countries ; but have you ever seen 
a person dressed so magnificently as 1 amf 
" Yes," replied Solon; the "pheasants and pea- 
cocks are dressed more magnificently, because 
their brilliant apparel is the gift of nature, without 
their taking any thought or pains to adorn them- 
selves. " 

Such an unexpected answer verymuch surprised 
Croesus, who ordered his officers to open all his 
treasures, and to shew them to Solon; as also his 
rich furniture, and whatever was magnificent in his 
palace. He then sent for him a second time, and 
asked him if he had ever seen a man more happy 
than he was ; "Yes/' replied Solon, t€ and that 
man was Tellus, a citizen of Athens, who lived 
with an umblemished character, in a well regulated 
republic. He left two children much respected, 



224 



PRIDE. 



with a moderate fortune for their subsistence ; and, 
at last, had the happiness to die sword in hand, 
after having obtained a victory for his country. 
The Athenians have erected a monument to his 
memory, on the spot where he fell, and have 
otherwise paid him great honours." 

Croesus was no less astonished at this than at the 
first answer; and began to think Solon ^ps not 
perfectly right in his senses. " Well," cdftinued 
Croesus, "who is the next happy man to Tfjlus?" 
"There were, formerly," replied Solon, "twp bro- 
thers, the one named Cleobis, and the other^Byton, 
They were so robust, that they always obtained 
the prize in every sort of combat, and perfectly 
loved each other. One feast day, when the priest- 
ess of Juno, their mother, for whom they had the 
most tender affection, was to go to the temple to 
sacrifice, the oxen, that were to draw her thither, 
did not come in time, Cleobis and By ton hereupon 
fastened themselves to her carriage, and in that 
manner drew her to the temple. All the matrons, 
in raptures, congratulated their mother on having 
brought two such sons into the world. Their mo- 
ther, penetrated with emotions of the strongest 
joy and gratitude, fervently prayed the goddess to 
bestow on her sons the best gift she had to confer 
on mortals. Her prayers were heard; for, after 
the sacrifice, the two sons fell asleep in the temple, 
and never afterwards awoke. Thus they finished 
their lives in a tranquil and peaceful death. 

Croesus corild no longer conceal his rage.— 
" What then," said he, " do you not even place 
me among the number of happy people?"— "O, 
king of the Lydians!" replied Solon, "you possess 
great riches, and are a master of a great multitude 
of people; but life is liable to so many changes, 
that we cannot presume to decide on the felicity 



PRIDE. 225 

of any man, until he has finished his mortal ca- 
reer. 

Alcibiades, one day boasting of his riches, and 
the great extent of his possessions, Socrates led 
him to a g^f^aphical chart, and asked him in 
what part Atticfcwas placed. It took up but a 
small ajfitinjtte map, and a little more than a 
poin^HWSrates then desired him to shew him all 
his dispossessions on that map; but he replied, 
"ThBjare two small to be placed in a general 
niapl- ( ^ee then/' replied Socrates, "what you 
makAch a boast of, and what you pride yourself 
in so much, is but an imperceptible point of earth." 



L Z 



226 




John reproving the bandit Chief. 



RELIGION. 



SENTIMENTS, 



Happy is the man thatjindeth wisdom, and the man 
that getteth understanding. For the merchandise 
of it is better than the merchandise of silver, and 
the gain thereof than fine gold. She is more pre- 
cious than rubies ; and all things thou canst desire 
are not to be compared unto her. Length of days 
is in her right hand, and in her left hand riches and 
honour. Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and 
all her paths are peace. She is a tree of life to 
them that lay hold upon her ; and happy is every 
one that retaineth her. 

Religion is such a sense of God on the soul, and 
our obligation to and dependance upon him, as 




r v 

RELIGION. 227 

to make it our principal study to do that whicli 
we think will be pleasing in his sight, and to avoid 
every thing which we think will offend him. As 
he is the fountain of goodness and justice, of 
course religion must be the foundation of all Chris- 
tian and moral virtue : to do good to all, and to avoid 
|o, or injuring willingly, even those 
Fs and persecutors, 
confidently affirm that it is natural to 
in the most unenlightened state; for 
fat never were favoured with the know- 
religion by revelation, have, nevertheless, 
that there is a Being who rewards good 
men, and punishes the wicked. 

Religion, like the treasure hid in the field, which 
a man sold all he had to purchase, is of that price, 
that it cannot be had at too great a purchase; 
since, without it, the best condition of life can- 
not make us happy; and with it, it is impossi- 
ble we should be miserable, even in the worst. It 
supports a Christian under all the afflictions of 
life; the desertion of friends, the wreck of for- 
tune, and the loss of reputation ; the deprivation 
of children who are strongly linked to his heart; 
but, above all, perhaps the wife of his bosom, his 
second self; yet he humbly submits to the soul- 
rending strokes, and with Job says, u Though he 
day me, yet will I trust in him? It is the author 
of a most glorious hope — of a final victory over 
death and sin! " I know that my redeemer liveth, 
and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the 
earth ; a.'d though after my skin, worms destroy 
this body, yet in my flesh shall I see God." 

The great Lord Burleigh used to say, " I 
will never trust any man not of sound religion ; 
for he that is false to God, can never be true to 
man. 



228 RELIGION. 



EXAMPLES. 

When Protagoras, the sceptic, whose strange 
caprices led him to doubt of every thing, even 
though he saw or felt it, began his book by say- 
ing, "As for the gods, whether the^areoi^e not, 
I have nothing to say ;" the magisiHtftPBH fchens 
highly resenting this profane trifling witj 
sacred, banished him out of their city, 
demned his book to be burnt bv the commc 
cutioner. 

What a blessing to mankind w T as the ingWSous, 
humble, and pious Mr. Boyle ! What a common 
pest w T as the fallacious, proud, and impious 
Hobbes! Accordingly we find that the former 
bade adieu to the world with the utmost serenity, 
honour, and hope; while the latter went out of it 
in the dark, and with terrible apprehensions of an 
unknown future. He had been an instrument of 
the prince of darkness, in poisoning many young 
gentlemen, and others, with his wicked principles, 
as the Earl of Rochester confessed with extreme 
compunction and grief upon his death-bed. It is 
remarked by those who critically observed the au- 
thor of the " Leviathan," that though in a humour 
of bravado he would speak very strange and un- 
becoming things of God, yet in his study, in the 
dark, and in his retired thoughts, he trembled be- 
fore him. Many appear like atheists in their 
mirth, amidst wine and company, who are quite 
of other sentiments in sickness, and gloom, and 
solitude. What could make this strange man 
awake in such terror and amazement if his candle 
happened to go out in the night ? What, but that 
he was unable to bear the dismal reflections of his 
dark and desolate mind ; and knew not how to 



RELIGION. 229 

extinguish nor how to bear the light of " the can- 
dle of the Lord/' within him. 

Xenophon informs us, that Cyrus, the founder 
of the Persian empire, made the worship of the 
gods, and a respect for religion, the first objects 
of his care. Actuated by this principle, he estab- 
lished a number of magi, or priests, to sing daily 
a morning service to the honour of the gods, and 
to offer sacrifices; which was daily practised 
araons the Persians of succeeding ages. The 
prince s disposition quickly became, as is usual, 
the prevailing disposition among the people, and 
his example became the rule of their conduct. 
Cyrus, on the other hand, was extremely glad to 
find in them such sentiments of religion; being 
convinced, that whoever sincerely fears and wor- 
ships God, will at the same time be faithful to his 
king, and preserve an inviolable attachment to his 
person, and to the welfare of the state. 

Agesilaus, king of Sparta, was on all occasions 
distinguished by his particular veneration for the 
gods. The noblest circumstance of his victory 
over the Athenians and Bcetians, at Chaeronea, 
was for sacrificing his resentment to the honour of 
religion: for a considerable number of the flying 
enemy having thrown themselves into the Temple 
of Minerva, and application being made to him 
to know in what manner they should be treated, 
he gave strict orders that none of them should be 
touched ; though he then laboured under the an- 
guish of several wounds he had received in the ac- 
tion, and was visibly exasperated at the opposi- 
tion he had met with. But his veneration was not 
confined to the Temples of the Greeks. When he 
made war upon the Barbarians, he was equally 
careful not to profane the images of their deities, 
nor offer the least violation to their altars. In the 



230 RELIGION. 

same manner, Alexander the Great, when he de- 
molished Thebes, paid a particular attention to the 
honour of the gods, suffering none of their tem- 
ples, or any other religious buildings, to be plun- 
dered; and afterwards, in his Asiatic expedition, 
which was purposely undertaken to humble the 
pride, and retaliate the ravages of the Persians, he 
was remarkably cautious not to injure, or shew 
the smallest contempt of their places of worship; 
though the Persians had been notoriously guilty 
this way when they invaded Greece. 

Of all the singular virtues which united in the 
character of Gustavus Adolphus, of Sweden, that 
which crowned the whole, was his exemplary 
piety to God. The following is related of him 
when he was once in his camp before Werben. 
He had been alone in the cabinet of his pavilion 
some hours together, and none of his attendants at 
these seasons durst interrupt him. At length, 
however, a favourite of his, having some import- 
ant matter to tell him, came softly to the door, 
and looking in, beheld the king very devoutly on 
his knees at prayer. Fearing to molest him in 
that sacred exercise, he was about to withdraw 
his head, when the king espied him, and bidding 
him come in, said, " Thou wonderest to see me in 
this posture, since I have so many thousands of 
subjects to pray for me: but I tell thee, that no 
man has more need to pray for himself, than he 
who, being to render an account of his actions to 
none but God, is, for that reason, more closely as- 
saulted by the devil than all other men beside." 
When the town of Landshut, in Bavaria, surren- 
dered to him at discretion, the principal inhabitants 
of it fell down upon their knees before him, 
and presented him with the keys of their town. 
" Rise, rise," said he: "it is your duty to fall on 



RELIGION. 231 

your knees to God, and not to so frail and feeble a 
mortal as I am." 

The ministers of Louis XIII. king of France, 
were desirous to insert, in a treaty between their 
sovereign and Gustavus, that the King of France 
had the King of Sweden under his protection. 
Gustavus spiritedly replied/' I have no occasion for 
any protection but that of God, and I desire no 
other. After God, I acknowledge no superior; 
and I wish to owe the success of my arms to my 
sword and my good conduct alone." The same 
Gustavus used to say that a man made a better 
soldier, in proportion to his being a better Chris- 
tian. 

Eusebius, in his history, informs us, that St. 
John, during his ministration to the Western 
churches, cast his eye upon a young man, remark- 
able for the extent of his knowledge, and the inge- 
nuousness of his mind. The aged apostle thought 
that he had discovered in him a useful instrument 
for the propagating of Christianity: accordingly, 
he took particular pains to convert him, and to in- 
struct him in the divine doctrines of his great 
Maker; and, that he might be still be better ac- 
quainted with the system of Christianity, at his 
departure, he recommended him to the care of a 
pious old father, who had some authority in the 
infant church. The youth continued awhile in 
the duties of his new r profession, and attended 
with care to the lectures of his venerable tutor. 
But his former associates, when they found them- 
selves deserted by him, were grieved at the suc- 
cess of the apostle, and exerted their utmost 
efforts to regain so useful and entertaining a com- 
panion. They succeeded in their attempts: the 
father was forsaken, and his pupil plunged deep 
into irregularity and vice. The apostle, after some 



232 RELIGION. 

time, returned to those parts; and "Where," said 
he, with impatience, to his aged friend, " where is 
my favourite youth?" — Alas!" replied the good 
old man, with tears in his eyes, "he is fallen, ir- 
recoverably fallen ! he has forsaken the society of 
saints, and is now a leader of a gang of robbers in 
the neighbouring mountains." Upon hearing this 
unexpected and unpleasing account, the apostle 
forgot his sufferings, and his years, and hastened 
to the place of rendezvous ; where, being seized 
by one of the band, he desired to speak with their 
captain. The captain being told that a strange 
pilgrim asked to be admitted to him, ordered him 
to be brought before him ; but, when he beheld 
the venerable apostle, his hopes of amusement 
sunk, and were changed into shame and confu- 
sion: and the hardy leader of a band of robbers 
trembled before a poor and helpless old man. 
He quitted, once more, the society of wicked- 
ness, and lived and died in the service of his 
Redeemer. 

While the colleagues of Constantius, the Ro- 
man emperor, were persecuting the Christians 
with fire and sword, he politically pretended to 
persecute them too; and declared to such officers 
of his household, and governors of provinces, as 
were Christians, that he left it to their choice, 
either to sacrifice to the gods, and by that means 
preserve themselves in their employments, or to 
forfeit their places and his favour, by continuing 
steady in their religion. When they had all de- 
clared their option, the emperor discovered his 
real sentiments; reproached, in the most bitter 
terms, those who had renounced their religion ; 
highly extolled the virtue and constancy of such 
as had despised the wealth and vanities of the 
world ; and dismissed the former with ignominy, 



RELIGION. 233 

saying, that those who had betrayed their God 
would not scruple to betray their prince : while 
he retained the latter, trusted them with the guard 
of his person, and the whole management of public 
affairs, as persons on whose fidelity he could 
firmly rely, and in whom he might put an entire 
confidence. 

Theodoric the First, king of the Goths, in his 
faith was an Arian ; yet he never persecuted those 
who differed from him in his religious opinions. 
He was extremely displeased with those persons 
whom he suspected of coming over to his belief 
to gain his favour, and without really believing 
what they professed to believe. One of his offi- 
cers having thus temporized with his faith, he im- 
mediately ordered him to be beheaded; saying, " If, 
Sir, you have not preserved your faith towards 
God, how can I expect that you will keep it with 
me, who am but a man?" 

It was the daily practice of that eminent physi- 
cian, Dr. Boerhaave, throughout his whole life, as 
soon as soon as he rose in the morning, which w 7 as 
generally very early, to retire for an hour to pri- 
vate prayer and meditation on some part of the 
scriptures. He often told his friends, when they 
asked him how it was possible for him to go 
through so much fatigue, that it was this which 
gave him spirit and vigour in the business of the 
day. This therefore, he recommended, as the best 
rule he could give: "for nothing," he said, "could 
tend more to the health of the body, than the 
tranquillity of the mind; and that he knew nothing 
which could support himself or his fellow-crea- 
tures, amidst the various distresses of life, but a 
well-grounded confidence in the Supreme Being, 
upon the principles of Christianity." 

The emperor, Charles V. declared that he found 



234 RELIGION. 

more satisfaction, more content, in his monastic 
solitude, and exercises of devotion, than all the 
victories and all the triumphs of his past life had 
ever afforded him, though they made him es- 
teemed as the most fortunate of princes. 

Mr. Locke, in a letter written the year before 
his death, to one who asked him, " What is the 
shortest and surest way for a young gentleman to 
attain to the true knowledge of the Christian re- 
ligion?" gives this memorable reply. — H Let him 
study the Holy Scriptures, especially the New Tes- 
tament ; therein are contained the words of eter- 
nal life. It has God for its author; salvation for 
its end; and truth, without any mixture of error, 
for its matter." The death of this great man was 
agreeable to his life. About two months before 
this event happened, he drew up a letter to a cer- 
tain gentleman, and left this direction upon it; 
"To be delivered to him after my decease!" in 
which are these remarkable words ; " I know you 
loved me living, and will preserve my memory now 
I am dead. This life is a scene of vanity that soon 
passes away, and affords no solid satisfaction, but 
in the consciousness of doing well, and in the 
hopes of another life. This is what I can say 
upon experience, and what you will find to be 
true, w 7 hen you come to make up the account." 

Mr. Addison, as we learn from the late cele- 
brated Dr. Young's Tract on Original Composi- 
tion, after a long and manly, but fruitless, struggle 
with the distemper of which he died, dismissed 
his physicians, and, with them, all hopes of life. 
He dismissed not, however, his concern for the 
living ; but sent for the young Lord Warwick, a 
youth nearly related to him, and finely accom- 
plished, yet not above being better for good im- 
pressions from a dying friend. He came ; but, 



RELIGION. 26o 

life now glimmering in the socket, the dying 
friend was silent. After a decent and proper 
pause, the youth said, M Dear Sir, you sent for 
me; I believe and hope that you have some com- 
mands; be assured I shall hold them most sacred.'*' 
May distant ages not only hear, but feel the reply ! 
Forcibly grasping the young nobleman's hand, he 
softly said, " See in what peace a Christian can 
die !" He spoke with difficulty, and soon expired. 
— -Through divine grace how great is man ! through 
divine mercy how stingless is death ! Who would 
not thus expire ? 

M. Du Fresne took occasion one day to remark 
to Louis XIV. that he did not appear to be suffi- 
ciently cautious in the liberty which he gave to 
every one to approach his person, and more parti- 
cularly when he was at war with a people (the 
Dutch) who w ? ere irritated against him, and were 
capable of attempting any thing. u I have re- 
ceived, Sir," said Louis, u a great many hints like 
this : in short, if I were capable of taking them, 
my life would not be worth having : it is in the 
hands of God ; he will dispose of it as he pleases ; 
and therefore I do not presume to make the least 
alteration in my conduct. " 

Louis, the late Duke of Orleans, thus expressed 
the delight he found in piety and devotion : M I 
know, by experience, that sublunary grandeur and 
sublunary pleasure are deceitful and vain, and 
are always infinitely below the conceptions we 
form of them. But, on the contrary, such 
happiness and such complacency maybe found in 
devotion and piety, as the sensual mind has no 
idea of." 

Cardinal Wolsev, one of the greatest ministers 
of state that ever was, poured forth his soul in 
these words after his fall from the favour of Henry 



236 RELIGION. 

VIII. "Had I been as diligent to serve my God 
as I have been to please my king, he would not 
have forsaken me now in my grey hairs." 

Voltaire, a man who, after having long and too 
justly been considered as the patron of infidelity, 
and after having shewn himself equally the enemy 
of every religious establishment, at length, to 
the astonishment of all serious minds, and at the 
close of a long life of nearly eighty years, in the 
most solemn manner, gave the confession of his 
faith here subjoined ; and which is confirmed on the 
oath of several witnesses who were present. " I 
believe, firmly," says he, " all that the Catholic, 
Apostolic, and Roma-n Church believes and con- 
fesses. I believe in one God, in three Persons, 
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, really distinguished ; 
having the same nature, the same divinity, and 
the same power. That the second person was made 
man, called Jesus Christ, who died for the salva- 
tion of all men; who has established the Holy 
Scriptures. I condemn, likewise, all the heresies 
the said church has condemned and rejected; 
likewise all perverted misinterpretations which 
may be put on them. This true and Catholic 
faith, out of which none can be saved, I profess 
and acknowledge to be the only true one; and I 
swear, promise and engage myself, to die in this 
belief, by the grace of God. I believe and ac- 
knowledge, also, with a perfect faith, all and every 
one of the articles of the Apostles' Creed, (which 
he recited in Latin, very distinctly.) I declare, 
moreover, that I have made this confession before 
the reverend Father Capuchin, previous to his con- 
fessing me." If a veteran in the cause of infide- 
lity thus closes his life and his works, does it not 
greatly behove those who have been deluded and 
misled by his writings, seriously to look to them- 



RELIGION. 237 

selves, and bring home this striking example to 
their hearts, lest they fall into the condemnation 
which their master seeks thus meanly at the end 
to avoid? 

Lord Peterborough, more famed for wit than 
religion, when he lodged with Fenelon, at Cam- 
bray, was so charmed with the piety and virtue of 
the archbishop, that he exclaimed, at parting, " If 
I stay here any longer, I shall become a Christian 
in spite of myself." 

Sir William Waller left behind him, in a " Daily 
Directory" for his conduct, these reflections; 
"Every day is a little life, in the account whereof 
we may reckon our birth from the womb of the 
morning : our growing time from thence to noon, 
when we are as the sun in his strength; after 
which, like a shadow that declineth, we hasten to 
the evening of our age, till at last we close our 
eyes in sleep, the image of death ; and oar whole 
life is but this tale of a day, told over and over. 
I should therefore so spend every day, as if it were 
all the life I had to live; and in pursuance of this 
end, and of the vow I have made to walk with God 
in a closer communication than I have formerly 
clone, I would endeavour, by his grace, to observe 
in the course of my remaining span, or rather inch 
of life, this daily directory: To awake with God 
as early as I can, and to consecrate the first fruits 
of my thoughts unto him by prayer and medita- 
tion, and by renewed acts of repentance ; that so 
God may awake for me, and make the habitation 
of my righteousness prosperous. To this end, I 
would make it my care to lie down the night be- 
fore in the peace of God, who hath promised that 
his commandment shall keep me when awake/' 
Edmund Waller, the poet, who attended him in his 
last illness, was once at court, when the Duke of 



238 RELIGION. 

Buckingham spoke profanely before King Charles 
the Second, and told him, " My Lord, I am a great 
deal older than your grace, and have, I believe, 
heard more arguments for atheism than ever 
your grace did. But I have lived long enough to 
see that there is nothing in them, and I hope your 
grace will." 



239 



RIDICULE. 



SENTIMENTS. 

The world's dread laugh, 

Which scarce the firm philosopher can scorn. 

Nothing is ridiculous but what is deformed ; nor 
in any thing proof against raillery but what is 
proper and handsome. 

Men make themselves ridiculous not by quali- 
ties they have, but by the affectation of those they 
have not. 

Ridicule is a weapon used by weak men and 
little minds, when they have the wrong side of a 
question, and are at a loss for arguments. The 
wicked or profligate use it to shield themselves 
against the conviction of truth ; to perplex when 
they cannot convince ; to wound the reputation of 
those they cannot emulate ; and to frighten the ti- 
morous from following the duties of conscience 
and rectitude. 

It is commonly the strongest instrument of ig- 
norance and error, and may be applied to either 
side of the question, according to the dexterous 
management of him that useth it. 

Nothing blunts the edge of ridicule so much as 
good humour, or sharpens it so much as the con- 
trary. 

Ridicule is the chief weapon of infidelity ; the 



240 RIDICULE. 

lowest and most abandoned of mankind can ridicule 
the most exalted beings ; they call prudence, ava- 
rice ; courage, rashness ; and brand good-nature 
and generosity with the name of prodigality; 
they laugh at the compassionate for his weakness ; 
the serious man for his preciseness; and the pious 
man for his hypocrisy ; and modesty is called 
prudery; for the man of wit is never so happy as 
when he can raise the blush of ingenuous merit, 
or stamp the marks of deformity and guilt on the 
features of innocence and beauty. In short, it is 
only calculated to put virtue out of countenance, 
to enhance the miseries of the wretched, and 
poison the feast of happiness ; to insult man, af- 
front God ; to make us hateful to our fellow crea- 
tures, uneasy to ourselves, and highly displeasing 
to the Almighty. 

EXAMPLES. 

A young gentleman of moderate understanding, 
but of great vivacity, by dipping into many au- 
thors of the modish and free-thinking turn, had 
acquired a little smattering of knowledge, just 
enough to make an atheist or free-thinker, but not 
a philosopher or a man of sense. With these ac- 
complishments, he went into the country to his 
father, who was a plain, rough, honest man, and 
wise, though not learned. The son, who took all 
opportunities to shew his learning, began to esta- 
blish a new religion in the family, and to enlarge 
the narrowness of their country notions; in which 
he succeeded so well, that he seduced the butler 
by his table talk, and staggered his eldest sister. 
The old gentleman began to be alarmed at the 
schisms that arose among his children, but yet 
did not believe his son's doctrine to be so per- 



RIDICULE. 241 

nicious as it really was, till one day, talking of his 
setting-dog, the son said he did not question but 
Carlo was as immortal as any one of the family; 
and, in the heat of argument, told his father, that, 
for his part, he expected to die like a dog. Upon 
which the old man, starting up in a passion, cried 
out, Then " Sirrah, you shall live like one!" and 
taking his cane in his hand, cudgelled him out of 
his system, and brought him to more serious re- 
flections and better studies. " I do not/' conti- 
nues Sir Richard Steel, from whom this is taken, 
"mention the cudgelling part of the story, with a 
design to engage the secular arm in matters of this 
nature; but, certainly, if ever it exerts itself in 
affairs of opinion and speculation, it ought to do it 
on such shallow and despicable pretenders to know- 
ledge, who endeavour to give a man dark and un- 
comfortable prospects of his being, and to destroy 
those principles which are the support, happiness 
and glory, of all public societies, as well as of pri- 
vate persons." " If the talents of ridicule," says 
Mr. Addison, "were employed to laugh men out 
of vice and folly, it might be of some use in the 
world ; but, instead of this, we find that it is gene- 
rally made use of to laugh men out of virtue and 
good sense, by attackingevery thing that is serious 
and solemn, decent and praise-worthy, in human 
life/' We have a remarkable example in the case 
of the Lord Chancellor Clarendon ; concerning 
whom, (among the other measures taken to pre- 
judice and ruin him with King Charles the Se- 
cond,) we are told that mockery and ridicule were 
two of the most notable weapons employed by his 
adversaries — and almost all his adversaries were 
the vicious and the profane. The Duke of Buck- 
ingham, in particular, and Eleanor Gwyn, the 
king's mistress, were the chief amongst these ; the 

M 



242 RIDICULE. 

latter being often allowed to entertain the king, 
and some of his courtiers, with mocking at the age 
and infirmities of the good lord chancellor, and at- 
tempting to imitate his lameness of gait, and gra- 
vity of aspect; while the former, upon every occa- 
sion, pleased himself and the company in acting 
all the persons who spoke even at the council- 
board, in their looks and motions — a piece of 
mimickry in which he had an especial faculty, and 
in his exercise of which the chancellor had a full 
part. Thus, in the height of mirth, if the king 
said he would go such a journey, or do the most 
trivial thing, to-morrow, a wager would be laid 
with him that he would not do it; and when the 
king asked w 7 hy, it was answered, that the chan- 
cellor would not let him ! and another would pro- 
test that he thought there was no ground for that 
imputation ; however, he could not deny that it 
was generally believed abroad that his majesty was 
entirely and implicitly governed by the chancellor : 
and when, by these means, they had often put the 
king in a passion, it was instantly reported with 
great joy in other companies. By such petty, 
low, and most illiberal arts, was a great and good 
man insulted, and at last degraded from all his 
comforts, his honours, and his good name. Nor 
was this all : the merry monarch himself suffered 
most essentially by the like shafts of ridicule and 
buffoonery : had it not been for which, there seems 
no room to doubt that, in many instances, he had 
proved a much better king, and a more happy man. 
This is particularly noted by the noble lord above- 
mentioned, who one day told the king that it was 
observed abroad to be a faculty very much of late 
improved in his court, to laugh at those argu- 
ments he could not answer. " And though," said 
he," the king did not then, nor a good while after, 



RIDICULE. 243 

appear to dislike the liberty I presumed to take 
with hirn, yet I found every day that some argu- 
ments grew less acceptable to him, and that the 
constant conversation he held with men of great 
profaneness, whose wit consisted in abusing scrip- 
ture, and in repeating and acting what preachers 
said in their sermons, and turning it into ridicule, 
(a science in which the Duke of Buckingham ex- 
celled,) did much lessen the natural esteem and 
reverence for the clergy; and inclined him to con- 
sider them as a rank of men who compounded a 
religion for their own advantage, and to serve 
their own turns; nor was all I could say to him of 
weight enough to make any impression to the 
contrary." 

The Earl of Chesterfield, being at Brussels, was 
waited on by the celebrated M. Voltaire, who po- 
litely invited him to sup with him and Madame 

C . His lordship accepted the invitation. 

The conversation happening to turn upon the af- 
fairs of England, "I think, my lord/' said Madame 
C — 9 " that the parliament of England con- 
sists of five or six hundred of the best informed 
and most sensible men in the kingdom." — "True, 
madam; they are generally supposed to be so." — 
" What, then, my lord, can be the reason that they 
tolerate so great an absurdity as the Christian re- 
ligion?" — " I suppose, madam," replied his lord- 
ship, "it is because they have not been able to 
substitute any thing better in its stead : when 
they can, I don't doubt but in their wisdom they will 
readily accept it." Surely so well-turned a piece 
of raillery was more forcible than a thousand ar- 
guments; and in cases like these it is, that the 
true sense of ridicule is seen. 

After the assassination of his old master, Henry 
the Fourth, of France, Sully withdrew himself 



244 RIDICULE. 

from public affairs, and lived in retirement thirty- 
years, seldom or never coming to court. Louis 
the Thirteenth, however, wishing to have his opi- 
nion upon some matters of consequence, sent for 
him to come to him at Paris, and the good old 
man obeyed his summons, but not with the greatest 
alacrity. The gay courtiers, on seeing a man 
dressed unlike to themselves, and of grave and 
serious manners, totally different from their own, 
and which appeared to be those of the last cen- 
tury, turned Sully into ridicule, and took him off 
to his face. Sully, perceiving this, said coolly to 
the king, "Sire, when your father, of glorious me- 
mory, did me the honour to consult me on any 
matter of importance, he first sent away all the 
jesters and all the buffoons of his court." 

The Duchess of Burgundy, when she was very 
young, seeing an officer at supper who was ex- 
tremely ugly, was very loud in her ridicule of his 
person. "Madam," said the king, (Louis the 
Fourteenth,) to her, " I think him one of the 
handsomest men in the kingdom; for he is one of 
the bravest." 

A gentleman of a grave deportment was busily 
engaged in blowing bubbles of soap and water, 
and was attentively observing them, as they ex- 
panded and burst in the sunshine. A pert youth 
fell into a fit of loud laughter, at a sight so 
strange, and which shewed, as he thought, such 
folly and insanity. "Be ashamed, young man," 
said one who passed by, "of your rudeness and 
ignorance. You now behold the greatest philo- 
sopher of the age, Sir Isaac Newton, investigat- 
ing the nature of lights and colours, by a series of 
experiments no less curious than useful, though 
you deem them childish and insignificant." 



245 



REVENGE. 

SENTIMENTS* 

To err, is human; to forgive, divine. 

Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do 
good to them that hate you, and pray for them 
which despitefuUy use you and persecute you. 

By taking revenge, a man is but even with his 
enemy ; but in passing it over, he is his superior. 

To be able to bear provocation, is an argument 
of great wisdom: and to forgive it, of a great 
mind. 

Revenge stops at nothing that is violent and 
wicked. The histories of all ages are full of the 
tragical outrages that have been executed by this 
diabolical passion. 

A more glorious victory cannot be gained over 
another man than this, that when the injury began 
on his part, the kindness should begin on ours. 

He that waits for an opportuniy of acting his 
revenge, watches to do himself a mischief. 

It was a strange revenge of a countryman, who 
was the last life in the lease of an estate in his pa- 
tron's possession, who, taking something ill of his 
landlord, immediately poisoned himself to defeat 
the other of the estate. 

Revenge begins in anger, and ends with repen- 
tance. 
Solomon says, "The discretion of a man de- 



246 



REVENGE. 



ferreth his anger, and it is his glory to pass over 
a transgression." 

EXAMPLES. 

When the emperor Frederick had obtained a 
most signal victory in Hungary, he spoke thus to 
his soldiers; " We have done/' said he, " a great 
work 5 and yet there is a greater that still remains 
for us to do; which is, to overcome ourselves, and 
to put an end at once to our covetousness, and the 
desire of revenge." 

In the isle of Majorca, there was a lord of a 
castle, who, amongst others, kept a negro slave ; 
and, for some fault of his, had beaten him with 
great severity. The villain Moor, watching his 
opportunity, when his master and the rest w T ere 
absent, shut the door against him, and, at his re- 
turn, thus acted his revenge : while his lord stood 
without, demanding entrance, he reviled him, 
violated his lady, threw her and two of his children 
out at the castle windows, and stood ready to do 
the like with the third and youngest child. The 
miserable father, who had beheld the ruin of all 
his family but this one, begged of his slave to save 
the life of that little one; which the cruel slave 
refused, unless he would cut off his own nose. 
The fond parent accepted the condition, and had 
no sooner performed it, than the bloody villain 
first cast the infant down headlong, and then him- 
self, in a barbarous bravery, thereby to elude the 
vengeance of his abused lord. 

A certain Italian, having his enemy in his power, 
told him there was no possible way for him to save 
his life, unless he would immediately deny and 
renounce his Saviour. The timorous wretch in the 
hope of mercy, did it; when the other forthwith 



REVENGE. 247 

stabbed him to the heart, saying that now he had 
a full and noble revenge, for he had killed at once 
both his body and soul. 

A noble Hungarian, having found one in bed 
with his wife, committed the adulterer to prison, 
there to be famished to death; and that he might 
the better attain his end, he caused a roasted fowl 
every now and then to be let down to his nose, 
that by the smell of the meat, his appetite might 
be exited to the greater eagerness; but he was not 
suffered to taste of it; it was only presented to 
make his punishment the more bitter. When the 
miserable creature had endured this usage for six 
days, on the seventh it was found that he had eaten 
the upper part of his own arms. 

M. Tullius Cicero had made some orations 
against M. Antonius; for which, when Antonius 
came to be of the triumvirate, he caused him to 
be slain. Fulvia, the wife of Antonius, not satis- 
fied with the death of that great orator, caused his 
head to be brought to her, upon w T hich she bestow- 
ed many curses: she spit in the face of it; she 
placed it upon her lap, and opening the mouth 
drew out the tongue, and pricked it in divers placed 
with a needle ; and after all, caused it to be set up 
in a high and eminent place, over those pulpits 
from whence the orators used to speak their ora- 
tions to the people. 

George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham, was 
stabbed at Portsmouth. Saturday, August 23, 
1628, by John Felton. It is said the villain did 
it partly in revenge, for that the duke had denied 
him some office he had made suit for; nor is it 
improbable, for I find him thus characterised : — 
" He was a person of little stature, of a stout and 
revengeful spirit. Having once received an injury 
from a gentleman, he cut off a piece of his little 



248 REVENGE. 

finger, and sent it with a challenge to the gen- 
tleman to fight him ; thereby to let him know 
that he valued not the exposing his whole bedy 
to hazard, so he might but have an opportunity 
to be revenged." 

Anno 1500, at a time when Tamas Shah ruled 
Persia, the city of Ispahan, (the metropolis of all 
Persia,) surfeiting with luxury, refused not only 
to contribute reasonably to the king's occasions, 
at that time molested with the Turks and Tartars, 
but audaciously withstood his desired entrance. 
A rebellion so insufferable made him swear a re- 
venge scarce to be paralleled. With fury he as- 
saults, in a rage enters it, firing a great part, and 
in a hostile severity pillaging each house : and, to 
conclude, regarding neither the outcries of old 
men, weak women, nor innocent children, in two 
days he made headless three hundred thousand of 
those Ispahanians ; and from Tamerlane's rigid 
example at Damascus, erected a trophy, (a pillar 
of their heads,) as a memorial of their disloyalty 
and his bitter revenge. 

Memorable is the example of Johannes Gual- 
bertes, a knight of Florence; who returning out 
of the field into the city, attended with a nurae« 
rous retinue, met with that very person who, not 
long before, had killed his only brother ; nor 
could the other escape him. Johannes presently 
drew his sword, that with one blow he might re- 
venge the death of his brother: when the other, 
falling prostrate on the ground at his feet, humbly 
besought him, for the sake of the crucified Christ, 
to spare his life. Johannes, suppressing his anger, 
let him depart, and offered his sword, drawn as it 
was, before the image of Christ crucified, in the 
next church he came to. 

We cannot, perhaps, better instance the no- 



REVENGE. 249 

blest way of taking revenge, than that heretofore 
pointed out by a common soldier. When the 
great Conde commanded the Spanish army in 
Flanders, and laid siege to one of its towns, the 
soldier in question being ill treated by a general 
officer, and struck several times with a cane, for 
some words he had let fall, answered, very coolly, 
that he should soon make him repent it. Fifteen 
days after, the same general officer ordered the 
colonel of the trenches to find him out a bold 
and intrepid fellow in his regiment, to do a no- 
table piece of service; and for which he promised 
a reward of a hundred pistoles. The soldier 
we are speaking of, who passed for the bravest 
in the regiment, offered himself for the business ; 
and taking with him thirty of his comrades, 
whom he selected, discharged his commission, 
which was a very hazardous one, with incredible 
courage and success. On his return, the officer 
highly commended him, and gave him the hun- 
dred pistoles he had promised. These, however, 
the soldier presently distributed among his com- 
rades, saying, he did not serve for pay, and de- 
manded only, that, if his late action seemed to 
deserve any recompense, they would make him 
an officer: "And now, Sir," continued he, to the 
general, who did not know him, " I am the sol- 
dier whom you so abused fifteen days ago ; and I 
told you I would make you repent it." The ge- 
neral instantly recollected him, and, in great ad- 
miration of his virtue, threw his arms round his 
neck, begged his pardon, and gave him a com- 
mission that very day. 

There was an uncivil fellow, who did nothing 
all the day long but rail against Pericles, the fa- 
mous Athenian, in the market-place, and before 
all the people : and though he was at that time 

m 2 



250 



REVENGE. 



the public magistrate, yet he took no notice of it, 
but all the while dispatched sundry matters of im- 
portance, till night came; and then, with a sober 
pace, went home towards his house, this varlet 
following all the way with abuse. Pericles, when 
he came to his house, it being dark, called to his 
servants io light the fellow home. 

Hamilcar, general of the Carthaginians, after 
gaining several battles, was enviously accused, as 
if he went about to establish the sole sovereignty 
in himself, and was put to death. His brother 
Giscon was forced into exile, and all his goods 
confiscated. After which the Carthaginians made 
use of several generals; but finding themselves to 
be shamefully beaten, and reduced to an extreme 
hazard of servitude, they recalled Giscon from his 
banishment, and having intrusted him with the 
supreme command in all military affairs, they put 
into his hands all his and his brother's enemies, to 
be disposed of and punished at his pleasure. Gis- 
con caused them all to be bound, and, in the 
sight of the people, commanded them all to lie 
prostrate on the ground ; which done, with a 
quick foot he passed over them all three times, 
treading upon each of their necks. f* I have 
now/' said he, " a sufficient and noble revenge 
for the murder of my brother." Upon which he 
freely dismissed them all; saying, "I have not 
rendered evil for evil, but good for evil." 

Aliverda, generalissimo of the armies of Abbas 
the Great, King of Persia, and his prime minis- 
ter, was as good a general, and as able a politician 
as he was amiable in the capacity of a courtier. 
From the constant serenity of his countenance, it 
was judged that nothing could ruffle the calmness 
of his heart; and virtue displayed itself in him so 
gracefully and so naturally, that it was supposed 



REVENGE. 251 

to be the effect of his happy temper. An extra- 
ordinary incident made the world to do him jus- 
tice, and place him in the rank he deserved. One 
day, as he was shut up in his closet, bestowing on 
affairs of state the hours which other men devote 
to sleep, a courier, quite out of breath, came in 
and told him that an Armenian, followed by a 
posse of friends, had in the night surprised his 
palace at Amandabat, destroyed all the most va- 
luable furniture in it, and would have carried off his 
wife and children, doubtless to make slaves of them, 
had not the domestics, w T hen the first fright was 
over, made head against him. The courier added, 
that a bloody skirmish ensued, in which his ser- 
vants had the advantage at last ; that the Arme- 
nian's friends were all killed upon the spot, but 
that the leader was taken alive. u I thank thee, 
oh Ali!" (the prophet most revered by the Per- 
sians next to Mahomet,) cried Aliverda, " for af- 
fording me the means to revenge so enormous an 
attempt. What! whilst I make a sacrifice of my 
days and my repose to the good of Persia, while 
through my cares and toils, the meanest Persian 
subject lives secure from injustice and violence, 
shall an audacious stranger come to injure me in 
what is most dear to me! Let him be thrown into 
a dungeon, and give him a quantity of wretched 
food, sufficient to preserve him for the torments 
to which I destine him." The courier withdrew, 
charged with these orders to them who had the 
Armenian in custody. 

But Aliverda, growing cool again, cried out, 
" What is it, O God, that I have done ! Is it thus 
I maintain the glory of so many years? Shall one 
single moment eclipse all my virtue ? That stranger 
has cruelly provoked me; but what impelled him 
to it? No man commits evil merely for the plea- 



252 



REVENGE. 



sure of doing it : there is always a motive, which 
passion or prejudice present to us under the mask 
of equity; and it must needs be some motive of 
this kind that blinded the Armenian to the dread- 
ful consequences of his attempt. Doubtless I 
must have injured the wretch." 

He dispatched immediately an express to Aman- 
dabat, with an order under his own hand, not to 
make the prisoner feel any other hardship than 
the privation of liberty. Tranquil after this act 
of moderation, he applied himself to public busi- 
ness, till he should have leisure to sift this parti- 
cular case to the bottom. From the strict enqui- 
ries he ordered to be made, he learned that one 
of his inferior officers had done very considerable 
damage to the Armenian, considering the medio- 
crity of his fortune; and that he himself had 
slighted the complaints brought against him. 
Eased by this discovery, he called for the Arme- 
nian, whose countenance expressed more confu- 
sion than terror, and passed this sentence upon 
him: 

" Vindictive stranger, there were some grounds 
for thy resentment; thou didst think I had justly 
incurred thy hatred; I forgive thee the injury 
thou hast done me. But thou hast carried thy 
vengeance to excess; thou hast attacked a man 
whom thou oughtest to respect ; nay, thou hast 
attempted to make thy vengeance fall upon inno- 
cent heads, and therefore I ought to punish thee. 
Go then, and reflect in solitude on the wretched- 
ness of a man that gives full swing to his pas- 
sions. Thy punishment, which justice requires 
of me, will be sufficiently tempered by clemency; 
and thy repentance may permit me to shorten the 
term." 

Demetrius Poliorcetes, who had done singular 



REVENGE. 253 

services for the people of the city of Athens, on 
setting out for a war in which he was engaged, 
left his wife and children to their protection. He 
lost the battle, and was obliged to seek security 
for his person in flight. He doubted not, at 
first, but that he should find a safe asylum 
among his good friends the Athenians; but 
those ungrateful men refused to receive him, and 
even sent back to him his wife and children, 
under pretence that they probably might not be 
safe in Athens, where the enemy might come and 
take them. 

This conduct pierced the heart of Demetrius; 
for nothing is so affecting to an honest mind, as 
the ingratitude of those we love, and to whom we 
have done singular services. Some time after- 
wards this prince recovered his affairs, and came 
with a large army to lay siege to Athens. The 
Athenians, persuaded that they had no pardon to 
expect from Demetrius, determined to die sword 
in hand, and passed a decree, which condemned 
to death those who should first propose to 
surrender to that prince; but they did not 
recollect that there was but little corn in the city, 
and that they would, in a short time, be in want 
of bread. 

Want soon made them sensible of their error, 
and, after having suffered hunger for a long time, 
the most reasonable among them said, " It would 
be better that Demetrius should kill us at once, 
than for us to die by the lingering death of fa- 
mine; perhaps he will have pity on our wives and 
children." They then opened to him the gates of 
the city. 

Demetrius, having taken possession of the city, 
ordered that all the married men should assemble 
in a spacious place appointed for the purpose, and 



254 REVENGE. 

that the soldiery, sword in hand, should surround 
them. Cries and lamentations were then heard 
from every quarter of the city, women embracing 
their husbands, children their parents, and all 
taking an eternal farewell of each other. 

When the married men were all thus collected. 
Demetrius, for whom an elevated situation was 
provided, reproached them for their ingratitude 
in the most feeling manner, insomuch that he 
himself could not help shedding tears. De- 
metrius for some time remained silent, while 
the Athenians expected that the next words he 
uttered would be order his soldiers to massacre 
them all. 

It is hardly possible to say what must have been 
their surprise, when they heard that good prince 
say, " I wish to convince you how ungenerously 
you have treated me; for it was not to an enemy 
you have refused assistance, but to a prince who 
loved you, who still loves you, and who wishes 
to revenge himself only by granting you pardon, 
and by being still your friend. Return to your 
own homes, While you have been here, my 
soldiers have been filling your houses with pro- 
visions." 

When Louis XII. ascended the throne of France, 
many of the great men of the court, who, when 
he was merely Duke of Orleans, had behaved to 
him with neglect, were afraid to present them- 
selves before him. Louis nobly said, " The King 
of France disdains to revenge the injuries com- 
mitted against the Duke of Orleans." 

He was once pressed by some of his ministers 
to seize upon the territory of a prince w T ho had 
offended him. u I had rather," replied he, " lose 
a kingdom, which might perhaps be afterwards 
restored to me, than lose my honour, which can 



REVENGE. 255 

never suffer any reparation. The advantages that 
my enemies gain over me, can astonish no one. 
They make use of means that I have ever dis- 
dained to employ: these are, treachery and 
the violation of the laws of the gospel. If ho- 
nour be banished from the breasts of all other 
men, it should keep its seat in the breast of a 
sovereign." 



256 



VIRTUE. 



SENTIMENTS. 



Blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds ; 
And, though a late, a sure reward succeeds. 

Virtue is the surest foundation both of reputa- 
tion and fortune ; and the great step to greatness 
is to be honest. 

He that would govern his actions by the laws 
of virtue, must keep guilt from the recesses of his 
heart, and remember, that the pleasures of fancy, 
and the motions of desire, are more dangerous as 
they are more hidden, since they escape the awe 
of observation, and operate equally in every situ- 
ation, without the concurrence of external op- 
portunities. 

He who desires no virtue in his companion, has 
no virtue in himself. 

Many men mistake the love, for the practice, of 
virtue, and are not so much good men, as the 
friends of goodness. 

Virtue is most laudable in that state which 
makes it most difficult. 

To dread no eye, and to suspect no tongue, is 
the great prerogative of innocence ; an exemp- 
tion granted only to invariable virtue. 

Virtue has such a peculiar beauty and comeli- 
ness, that even men of the most opposite character 
are impelled to reverence it in others, whatever 
be their station. Tully very justly observes, that 



VIRTUE. 257 

if virtue were to appear in a human form, all men 
would adore her. 

Virtue is the greatest ornament to youth; to the 
poor, serviceable; to the unfortunate and afflicted, 
a sure support : she ennobles the slave and exalts 
nobility, and is the brightest gem in the crown of 
a sovereign. 

None but the virtuous dare to hope in bad cir- 
cumstances. In the deepest distress, virtue is more 
illustrious than vice in its highest prosperity. 

EXAMPLES. 

M. Porcius Cato, the Elder, lived with that in- 
tegrity, that, though he was fifty times accused, 
he was yet so many times adjudged innocent; nor 
did he obtain this by favour or wealth, but against 
the favour and riches of almost the whole city. 
His honesty and severity had raised him up very 
many enemies, and much of envy, for he spared 
no man, nor was he a friend to any, who was not 
so to the commonwealth. At last, being accused 
in his old age, he required and obtained that Ti- 
berius Sempronius Gracchus, one of the chief of 
his enemies, should be appointed for his judge : 
but even he acquitted him, and gave sentence that 
he was innocent. Through this his confident ac- 
tion, he ever after lived both in great glory and 
equal security. 

Poedaretus, of Lacedaernon, on presenting him- 
self in order to be admitted a member of the 
Council of Three Hundred, (the Lacedemonian 
House of Commons, we will suppose,) was refused 
a seat. Did he,* in consequence thereof, labour 
night and day to excite discord among his fellow- 
citizens, and to obstruct the essential operations 
of government? No: he went away rejoicing that 



258 VIRTUE. 

Sparta was found to contain three hundred men of 
greater worth than himself. 

A Spartan lady had five sons in the army, and 
was in hourly expectation of news from the field 
of battle. A messenger returns from the camp ; 
and, with trembling agitation, she applies to him 
for information. " Your five sons," said he, " are 
slain." "" Base slave! did I ask thee that?" "Yet 
we have gained the victory/' " Thanks to the 
gods!" exclaimed the mother: and she instantly 
flew to the temple, in order to offer up her thanks. 

During a period of the Roman history, Porsenna, 
King of the Tuscans, laid siege to the city of 
Rome, and was on the point of reducing it to the 
last extremity. A young Roman, fraught with a 
noble ardour, repairs in the disguise of an Etru- 
rian, into the enemy's camp, advances even to 
the royal tent, and, mistaking him for the king, 
stabs the secretary to the heart. On being seized, 
and asked his name, " I am a Roman," replied 
he, sternly, "and my name is Mutius. Thou 
beholdest, in me, one enemy who wanted to kill 
another; and I shall not have less courage to 
suffer death than I had to give it." In the mean 
time, as if desirous to punish his right hand for 
having disappointed him of his prey, he put it 
upon a red hot coal, which had been just kindled 
for a sacrifice ; and he beheld it gradually con- 
sume away, without betraying the smallest sense 
of pain. The king, struck with this prodigy of 
resolution, ordered him to be removed from the 
altar and to be restored to his liberty. " Since," 
said Mutius to him, " thou knowest the value of 
virtue, what thou shouldst not have torn from me 
by threats, I will freely grant to thy generosity. 
Know, then, that there are three hundred of us 
young Romans, who have sworn, before the gods, 



VIRTUE. 259 

that we will kill thee in the midst of thy guards, 
or perish, one and all of us in the attempt." Por- 
senna, equally struck with admiration and terror at 
his speech, immediately raised the siege. 

Among the prisoners whom Mithridates took 
in one of the many battles he {bught with the 
Romans, an officer, nameH Pomponh*!, was one 
day brought before him dangerously wounded. 
The king asked him if, should he spare his life, 
he might reckon him among the number of his 
friends? "Yes," replied the prisoner, " if you 
make peace with the Romans: if not, it would be 
a crime in me to hesitate upon the subject." 

In the history of China, we read of a Chinese, 
who, justly irritated at the many acts of oppres- 
sion committed by the grandees, waited upon the 
emperor ; and, after enumerating his complaints, 
" I come," said he, " to present myself a victim 
to that death which six hundred of my fellow-ci- 
tizens have already experienced for a similar re- 
monstrance. At the same time, I give thee no- 
tice to prepare for a series of fresh executions : 
for in China there are still eighteen thousand trusty 
patriots, who, for the same cause, will succes- 
sively apply to thee for the same reward." The 
emperor, savage as he was, could not resist so 
much resolution: the above words sunk deep into 
his heart ; and making an immediate enquiry into 
the grievances complained of, he not only ef- 
fectually suppressed them, but put to death the 
culprits who had occasioned so much misery to his 
subjects. 

The same history furnishes another striking in- 
stance of patriotism, and that in a female bosom. 
An emperor of China, pursued by the victorious 
arms of one of his subjects, endeavoured to avail 
himself of the blind respect which, in that coun- 



260 VIRTUE. 

try, a son entertains for the commands of his mo- 
ther, in order to oblige that subject to disarm. 
For this purpose, he dispatched an officer to the 
mother; and he, with a poignard in his hand, tells 
her that there is but one alternative before her, 
death or obedience. " Would it please your mas- 
ter/' replied she to him, with a smile of bitter- 
ness, " to hear that I am ignorant of the tacit 
though sacred compact, which unites every sub- 
ject to his sovereign, and by which the former 
are bound to obey, and the latter to rule with jus- 
tice ? By himself hath this compact been origi- 
nally violated. Base bearer of the orders of a 
tyrant, learn, from a woman, what in such a situ- 
tuation, one owes to her country." With these 
words, she snatches the poignard from the officer, 
stabs herself with it, and says, " Slave, if yet 
there is any virtue remaining in thee, carry to my 
son this bloody poignard ; tell him to revenge his 
country, to punish the tyrant ; no longer has he 
aught to dread for me, to excite in him a scruple, 
or to restrain him from the paths of virtue/' 

In the eleventh century, Godiva, wife of the 
Duke of Mercia, (a branch of the Saxon hep- 
tarchy,) manifested her love for her country by 
a singular exploit. For beauty and virtue this 
princess stands the foremost of her age. Her 
husband having imposed a very oppressive tax 
upon the inhabitants of Coventry, she strongly 
urged him to suppress it; but the duke, a man of 
unaccountable caprice, refused her request, un- 
less she would traverse the whole town naked. 
Godiva, despairing of success by any other means, 
submitted to his brutal whim ; and, having issued 
orders that the inhabitants should remain con- 
fined to their houses, and not look at her, upon 
pain of death, she mounted on horseback, and 



VIRTUE. 261 

rode through all the streets of Coventry, without 
any other covering than what a copious head of 
hair afforded her. One man, instigated by curi- 
osity, peeped out at a window; and his impru- 
dence was immediately punished w 7 ith death. In 
memory of this event, the remains of a statue, in 
the attitude of a person gazing, are still to be 
seen upon that very spot of the ancient city of 
Coventry. 

During the threatened invasion of Britain, in 
the course of a former war with France, when 
there seemed to be a probability that the actual 
service of every member of the community might 
be required for the security of the kingdom, an 
Englishman thus frankly expressed his sentiments 
on the occasion : "As I am neither soldier nor 
seaman," said he, " I will not scruple to acknow- 
ledge that I have no pretensions to bravery; but, 
as a citizen, my purse is at the service of my 
country ; my last guinea will I with pleasure re- 
sign for the good of old England ; but in no ex- 
tremity will I be prevailed upon to take up arms." 

Of the truth of the following story, which hap- 
pened nearly at the same period with the above, 
the reader may rest assured. In a company, one 
day, the conversation happened to turn upon the 
supposed intention which the French had formed, 
of making a descent upon England. A child of 
about nine years of age, after listening with great 
attention to what was said, suddenly started up 
from his chair, and ran forward to his father: — 
" Pray, papa," says he, " if the French come, w 7 ill 
they bring any little boys with them?" u I can't 
tell," replies the father; "but why do you ask?" 
"Because," replies the other, clinching his fists, 
" I would box them one after another ; and give 
them such a drubbing, that they would never 



262 VIBTUE. 

wish to come again." The gentlemen present, as 
it may be supposed, were enchanted with this in- 
fantine, though noble impulse of resentment 
against the declared enemies of the country ; 
and taking him in their arms, they loaded him 
with caresses and with praises for his patriotic 
resolution. 

Julius Drusus, a tribune of the temple, had a 
house that, in many places, lay open to the eyes 
of the neighbourhood. There came a workman to 
him, and told him that, at the price of five talents 
he would so alter it, that it should not be li- 
able to that inconvenience. " I will give thee 
ten talents," said he, " if thou canst make my 
house conspicuous in every room of it, so that all 
the city may behold after w T hat manner I lead my 
life." 

When the senate of Rome was in debate about 
the election of a censor, and that Valerianus was 
in nomination, Trebellius Pollio writes, that the 
universal acclamation of the senators was, " The 
life of Valerianus is a censorship; let him be 
the judge of us all, who is better than all of us : 
let him judge of the senate who cannot be charged 
with any crime ; let him pass sentence upon 
our life, against whom nothing is to be objected. 
Valerianus was almost a censor from his cradle ; 
Valerianus is a censor in his whole life : he is a 
prudent senator; modest, grave; a friend to good 
men, an enemy to tyrants ; an enemy to the vi- 
cious, but a greater unto vice. We receive this 
man for our censor : him we will imitate : he 
is the most noble amongst us, the best in blood, 
of exemplary life, of excellent learning, of choice 
manners, and the example of antiquity." 

Plato, the son of Ariston, happening to be at 
Olympia, pitched his tent with some persons whom 



VIRTUE. 263 

he knew not, and to whom he was himself un- 
known. But he so endeared himself to them by 
his engaging manners, living with them in con- 
formity to their customs, that the strangers were 
wonderfully delighted at this accidental inter- 
course. He made no mention either of the aca- 
demy or of Socrates, and contented himself with 
telling them that his name was Plato. When these 
men came to Athens, Plato entertained them in a 
friendly manner. His guests addressing him, 
said, " Shew us, oh, Plato, your namesake, the 
pupil of Socrates, and introduce us into his aca- 
demy, and be the means of our deriving some 
instruction from him." He, smiling with his 
accustomed good humour, exclaimed, " I am that 
person." They were rilled with astonishment at 
the idea of their having been ignorantly associated 
with such a personage, who had conducted him- 
self toward them without the least insolence or 
pride, and who had given them a proof that, with- 
out the usual display of his known accomplish- 
ments, he was able to conciliate their good-will. 

A young man, named Eretius, was for a consi- 
derable time a follower of Zeno. On his return 
home, his father asked him what he had learned. 
The other replied, that w T ould heareafter appear. 
On this, the father, being enraged, beat his son, 
who, bearing it patiently, and without complain- 
ing, said, he had learned this — to endure a parent's 
anger. 

Phocion, son of Phocus, who had often been 
the general of his countrymen, was condemned to 
death ; and, being in prison, was about to drink 
the hemlock. When the executioner held out to 
him the cup, his relations asked him if he had 
any commands for his son. M I order him," said 



264 VIRTUE. 

Phocion, " to bear no animosity nor revenge 
against the Athenians on account of this poison 
which I now drink." 

Codrus, the last and best king of Athens, had 
reigned about one-and-twenty years, beloved by 
his subject^ and dreaded by his enemies. His 
country was at length invaded by the Heraclidse, 
and in danger of falling a sacrifice to their con- 
quering swords ; when the good old king found 
means of saving it by the following stratagem, 
though at the expense of his own life. He was 
informed by his spies, that the enemy had con- 
sulted the oracle about the success of the war, 
and had been promised a complete victory, " pro- 
vided they could avoid killing the Athenian king;" 
for which reason they had taken all proper care to 
prevent it. Codrus, to frustrate their precaution, 
went one night into their camp, disguised like a 
homely countryman, and fell a quarrelling among 
some of their guards ; from words they fell to 
, blows, and the king, who came with a resolution 
to lose his life, bestirred himself with such bra 
very, that he soon fell dead at their feet. On the 
morrow, when his body was found, covered with 
wounds, and weltering in his own blood, the 
enemy, recollecting the words of the oracle, were 
struck with such dread that they immediately 
marched out of the Athenian territories, without 
striking one stroke, or committing any further 
hostility. When his death had reached his sub- 
jects' ears, they conceived such a veneration for 
their magnanimous prince, that they esteemed 
none worthy to bear the royal title after him ; and, 
from that time, put the government of Athens 
under elective magistrates, called Archons, or 
Chiefs. Their gratitude did not end here ; they 



VIRTUE. 265 

chose his son, Medon, to that dignity, and conti- 
nued it to his posterity during twelve generations ; 
that is, for nearly two hundred years. 

The city of Rome was once in the utmost con- 
sternation, being in danger of being swallowed up 
by an earthquake, which had already opened a 
monstrous gulf in their very forum. All the citi- 
zens and slaves had in vain tried to fill it up with 
all the stones, earth, and rubbish they could get, 
far and near. At length they had recourse to 
their augurs and soothsayers, who told them that 
the impending mischief was not to be preventeu 
but by flinging into the chasm the thing in which 
the power and strength of Rome consisted. While 
they were deliberating about the meaning of this 
intricate answer, Curtius, a noble youth, presented 
himself to them, and asked them whether they 
had any stronger or more valuable support than 
arms and valour ? He scarcely stayed for an an- 
swer, but being fully persuaded that his death 
would prove the means of saving his country, 
went and accoutred himself in stately armour, 
and being mounted on a horse richly caparisoned, 
rode through crowds of spectators of all ranks, 
till he came to the dreadful gulf. Here, after he 
had devoted his life afresh to the safety of Rome, 
with an intrepid courage, more easily to be ad- 
mired than followed, he leaped into the chasm 
with his horse, whilst the astonished multitude 
celebrated the heroic deed with the highest praises. 
His memory has been ever since held in great 
admiration by all nations, and is still celebrated 
in history as one of the noblest instances of 
patriotism. 

Cimon, the brave Athenian general, had gained 
so many glorious victories over the Persians and 
other enemies of Athens, that he had raised that 



■ 

V 

266 VIRTUE. 

republic to a great height of power and grandeur, 
and himself to the highest post of honour in it. 
Cimon was an accomplished commander, knew 
when and how to make use of arms when he was 
bent upon new conquests, or how to weaken an 
enemy, by raising revolts among them by his 
secret intrigues. At home he was a perfect 
statesman ; and partly by his authority, but more 
by his affable behaviour, had made a considera- 
ble reformation in the commonwealth. 

Cimon had two powerful enemies in it : the one, 
Themistocles, a haughty and ambitious rival ; the 
other, the common people, who could not brook 
to see their power curtailed, and their credit les- 
sened by that worthy patriot, who thought it more 
just and expedient to bestow the administration 
of public affairs on persons of quality and note, 
than to raise men of the lowest rank to it. These, 
therefore, animated by Themistocles, assembled 
in a tumultuous manner in the forum, and de- 
manded an ostracism of the magistrates ; which 
they not daring to deny at that juncture, Cimon 
was thereby divested of all his dignities, con- 
demned to banishment, and even forbid to serve 
as a volunteer in their then war against the Lace- 
demonians. 

It was well for the republic that Cimon did not 
carry his resentment against them so high as many 
others would have done, else he might then easily 
have ruined them. For soon after his banish- 
ment they were so broken into factions at home, 
and had such powerful enemies to fight against 
abroad, that they must have sunk under the double 
weight. In this emergency their pride was forced 
to yield, and he was again recalled to save his 
country, after their defeat at the famous battle of 
Tanagra. The noble exile did not hesitate a mo- 



VIRTUE. 267 

ment, but returned to i\thens, and forgetting all 
but his love to his country, set about reforming 
the abuses which had crept in during his absence, 
which was no sooner done, than he bent his arms 
against the Persians, and gained a fresh victory- 
over them ; after which he invaded the island of 
Cyprus, and, had he not been unfortunately killed 
at the siege of Citium, it is thought he would have 
conquered that, and the whole kingdom of Egypt. 

iEneas, the son of Anchises, prince of Troy, is 
chiefly famed and distinguished from other an- 
cient heroes, for his filial affection and piety to 
his decrepid father. The old prince was eighty 
years of age, when the city of Troy, his capital, 
was, after a ten years' siege, taken by the Greeks, 
and burnt : so that he must have inevitably pe- 
rished in the flames, or fallen a sacrifice to the 
enemy's sword, had not his brave and affectionate 
son made his way through all dangers to come to 
his rescue, and on his shoulders conveyed him to 
a place of safety. This noble action it is that 
raises iEneas's character above all his other ex- 
ploits, and has received the greatest commenda- 
tion from all the writers of antiquity, as a pattern 
worthy the imitation of posterity. 

Manlius, the Roman dictator for his haughti- 
ness and cruelty surnamed Imperious, had made 
so ill a use of dictatorial dignity, that, imme- 
diately after his term of service was expired, a 
process was begun against him, and several cri- 
minal articles laid to his charge, of which he had 
a copy delivered to him, that he might either 
clear himself from, or be punished for them. One 
of them, among the rest, was, that he had confined 
his son Titus to his country-seat, and obliged him 
to work there among his servants and slaves, 
under pretence that he had an impediment in his 



268 



VIRTUE. 



speech, and was a youth of a dull and slow capa- 
city. The whole city had already condemned 
him, both as an unnatural parent and tyrannical 
magistrate, and were in hopes to see some severe 
punishment inflicted upon him. None were found 
that pitied him but his much-injured son, Titus, 
who took it so to heart that he should furnish 
any aggravation to his father's guilt, that he took 
up a noble resolution to save him at the hazard of 
his own life. Accordingly, on the day before the 
trial, he left his father's farm early in the morn- 
ing, and came directly to the house of Pomponius, 
the tribune, who was appointed to try him, and 
sent to desire to speak with him. The tribune 
easily admitted him to a private conference, not 
doubting but he came to bring some fresh accu- 
sation against his barbarous father ; but he was 
soon undeceived, to his great surprise and asto- 
nishment, when Titus, drawing out a dagger, 
clapped it to his breast, and swore that he was 
come with full purpose to sheath it in his heart, 
unless he engaged himself by the most solemn 
oaths to desist from the prosecution against Man- 
ilas. Pomponius was so terrified at this unex- 
pected compliment, that he was glad to promise 
him what he asked, and to swear to the faithful 
performance of it ; after which, Titus contentedly 
returned to his confinement. The prosecution 
was accordingly dropped ; and the people, who 
could not but highly admire the exalted piety of 
the son towards a most inhuman father, applauded 
the tribune's conduct in rewarding it with Man- 
lius's discharge. From that time both Titus, and, 
for his sake, the haughty Manlius, became the 
admiration of Rome, and both were raised to 
some of the highest dignities in the government. 
Antigonus also is justly famed for his piety to 



VIRTUE. 269 

his unfortunate father, once the potent king- of 
Macedonia, but, through a long series of ill suc- 
cesses, reduced to the lowest state by his ungrate- 
ful son-in-law, Seleucus, king of Syria. Deme- 
trius, which was the unhappy king's name, finding 
himself forsaken by his treacherous army, and 
ready to be betrayed into the hands of his enemy, 
was advised by the few friends that were left about 
him, to surrender himself, which he accordingly 
did. Seleucus at first received him w^ith tokens 
of the greatest respect and friendship, protesting 
that he thought himself more obliged to fortune 
for giving him this opportunity of shewing his 
clemency towards him, than if he had gained a 
complete victory over him. But he soon after 
convinced him that he meant nothing more, by all 
these florid expressions, than to amuse him, and 
secure him so fast that he should never have it in 
his power to regain his liberty. Accordingly, he 
sent him soon after into a strong castle in an 
island, and there kept him close prisoner, where 
he might have leisure to reflect on his past mis- 
fortunes, without the least possibility of remedy- 
ing them. When Demetrius found himself in 
this forlorn and desperate situation, he sent a let- 
ter to his generous son, to acquaint him with it ; 
not to desire him to undertake anything tow r ards 
regaining his liberty, for that he expressly forbid 
him ; but, on the contrary, to enjoin him to look 
upon his father as dead, and himself as king in 
his stead, to govern his subjects with moderation 
and justice, and by no means to part with any 
cities, lands, or treasures, to Seleucus, by way of 
ransom, or to give credit to any letter to the con- 
trary, though written with his own hand, and 
sealed with his own seal. This noble disinterest- 
edness in the father made so deep an impression 



270 VIRTUE. 

on the heart of the heroic son, that, instead of 
obeying his commands, he sought for nothing so 
much as how to procure his freedom. But as he 
was too inferior in strength to attempt it by force 
of arms, he endeavoured to obtain it by pacific 
means, by interesting several princes and states 
to sue to Seleucus for his liberty, whilst himself 
offered him all the provinces which he held in 
Greece, which were very considerable, together 
with some large sums of money, and at length his 
own person, as hostage for his father's release. 
Seleucus lent a deaf ear to all his offers ; but 
Demetrius, being afraid lest his generous son 
should make such new and large ones as might 
be thought worth accepting, seems to have only 
sought how to prevent it by hastening his own 
death, by giving himself up to drinking and ban- 
queting, which, with his confinement and want of 
exercise, brought an incurable distemper upon 
him, which carried him off in the third year of his 
imprisonment. Antigonus's piety did not end 
with his father's life ; but when he heard of his 
death, and that his ashes were sent to him by 
Seleucus, he sailed with a noble fleet to the Archi- 
pelago to meet them, deposited them in a rich urn 
of gold, which he placed on the poop of his royal 
galley under a stately canopy, set his own crown 
upon it, and stood by it in deep mourning, and 
with his eyes bathed with tears. In this mournful 
pomp they entered the harbour of Corinth, where 
he left all his father's trophies as standing monu- 
ments of his former valour and success, but sent 
the royal urn to Demetria, a favourite city, built 
by the deceased king, and called by his own 
name. 

Herod, the haughty and cruel king of Judea, 
had, in one of his desperate fits of jealousy, caused 



VIRTUE. 271 

his virtuous and innocent queen, Marianne, a 
princess of the most exalted character and merit, 
to be unjustly condemned to death, and led to 
public execution. He had two noble sons by her, 
Alexander and Aristobulus, whom he had sent to 
Rome to be educated under the emperor Augus- 
tus's eye. As soon as these young princes re- 
ceived the melancholy news of their mother's 
catastrophe, they could not forbear expressing 
their grief and resentment at in such terms as 
their love and piety towards that best of mothers 
inspired them with, but which so enraged their 
jealous father, that he immediately caused them 
to be tried for treason, and condemned to lose 
their heads. At the same time he caused Anti- 
pater, a younger son by another wife, and a prince 
of a base character, to be declared his successor. 
Among those who came to dissuade him from 
putting these two brave princes to death, and 
exposing his old age to the mercy of the arrogant 
and ambitious Antipater, was Tyro, an old, honest, 
and experienced officer, who, upon his admittance, 
did assure him that this young prince did enter- 
tain some treasonable designs against his life and 
crown, and was on that account become odious to 
the chiefs of the Jewish nation. He had scarce 
done speaking, when the suspicious king ordered 
him either to declare immediately who those Jew- 
ish chiefs were, or else to be led to the rack, and 
there have their names extorted from him. Tyro 
was accordingly sent to the torture, being unwil- 
ling to sacrifice so many brave men to Herod's 
fury. They had already begun their bloody office 
upon him, when the brave old general must in all 
likelihood have expired in the midst of his tor- 
ments, as many more of both sexes had done 
before under that cruel tyrant, had not his brave 



272 VIRTUE. 

son freed him at the expense of his own life* 
Tyro, which was the brave youth's name, came at 
that very instant, and, to save his father from the 
impending danger, boldly confessed that he alone, 
without his father's knowledge, had conspired to 
murder the king, and save his two sons from 
death ; upon which the old man was released, and 
his generous son, in all likelihood, put to death; 
though Josephus, who relates this story, mentions 
nothing of it ; but only adds, that his confession 
was believed by none but the jealous Herod, who 
immediately sent orders to have his two gal- 
lant and worthy sons strangled in the castle of 
Sebaste. 

An eminent citizen, whohad lived in good fashion 
and credit, was, by a train of accidents, and by 
an unavoidable perplexity in his affairs, reduced 
to a low condition. There is a modesty usually 
attending faultless poverty, which made him rather 
chuse to reduce his manner of living in his present 
circumstances, than solicit his friends, in order 
to support the show of an estate, when the sub- 
stance was gone. His wife, who was a woman 
of sense and virtue, behaved herself on this occa- 
sion with uncommon decency, and never appeared 
so amiable in his eyes as now. Instead of up- 
braiding him with the ample fortune she had 
brought, or the many great offers she had refused 
for his sake, she redoubled all the instances of 
her affection, while her husband was continually 
pouring out his heart to her, in complaints that he 
had ruined the best woman in the world. He 
sometimes came home at a time when she did 
not expect him, and surprised her in tears; 
which she endeavoured to conceal, and always 
put on an air of cheerfulness to receive him. To 
lessen their expense, their eldest daughter, whom 



VIRTUE. 



273 



I shall call Amanda, was sent into the country 
to the house of an honest farmer, who had mar- 
ried a servant of the family. This young woman 
was apprehensive of the ruin which was approach- 
ing, and had privately engaged a friend in the 
neighbourhood to give her an account of what 
passed from time to time in her father's affairs. 
Amanda was in the bloom of her youth and 
beauty, when the lord of the manor, who often 
called in at the farmer's house as he followed his 
country sports, fell passionately in love with her. 
He was a man of great generosity, but, from a 
loose education, had contracted a hearty aversion 
to marriage. He therefore entertained a design 
upon Amanda's virtue; which, at present, he 
thought fit to keep private. The innocent crea- 
ture, who never suspected his intentions, was 
pleased with his person, and, having observed his 
growing passion for her, hoped, by so advantage- 
ous a match, she might quickly be in a capacity 
of supporting her impoverished relations. One 
day, as he called to see her, he found her in tears 
over a letter she had just received from her friend, 
which gave an account that her father had lately 
been stripped of every thing by an execution. 
The lover, who with some difficulty found out the 
cause of her grief, took this occasion to make 
her a proposal. It is impossible to express 
Amanda's confusion, when she found his preten- 
sions were not honourable. She was now de- 
serted of all her hopes, and had no power to 
speak ; but, rushing from him in the utmost dis- 
turbance, locked herself up in her chamber. 
He immediately dispatched a messenger to her 
father with the following letter : 



.x 2 



274 VIRTUE* 

f f:Si*v 

" I have heard of your misfortune, and have of- 
fered your daughter, if she will live with me, to 
settle on her four hundred pounds a year, and to 
lay down the sum for which you are now dis- 
tressed. I will be so ingenuous as to tell you, 
that I do not intend marriage ! but, if you are 
wise, you will use your authority with her not to 
be too nice, when she has an opportunity of sav- 
ing you and your family, and of making herself 
happy. I am, &c." 

This letter came to the hands of Amanda's mo- 
ther; she opened and read it with great surprise 
and concern. She did not think it proper to ex- 
plain herself to the messenger; but desiring him 
to call again the next morning, she wrote to her 
daughter as follows : 

"Dearest Child, 

"Your father and I have just now received a 
letter from a gentleman who pretends love to you, 
with a proposal that insults our misfortunes, and 
would throw us into a lower degree of misery 
than any thing which is come upon us. How 
conld this barbarous man think, that the tender- 
est of parents would be tempted to supply their 
wants by giving up the best of children to infamy 
and ruin ? It is a mean and cruel artifice to make 
this proposal at a time when he thinks our neces- 
sities must compel us to any thing ; but we will 
not eat the bread of shame; and therefore we 
charge thee not to think of us, but to avoid the 
snare which is laid for thy virtue. Beware of pity- 
ing us ; it is not so bad as you have perhaps been 
told. All things will yet be well, and I shall 
write, my child, better news. 

"I have been interrupted. I know not how T I 



VIRTUE. 



275 



was moved to say things would mend. As I was 
going on, I was startled by the noise of one that 
knocked at the door, and had brought us an unex- 
pected supply of a debt which lias long been ow- 
ing. Oh! I will now tell thee all. It is some days 
I have lived almost without support, having con- 
veyed what little money I could raise to your 
poor father. Thou wilt weep to think where he 
is ; yet be assured he will soon be at liberty. The 
cruel letter would have broken his heart; but I 
have concealed it from him. I have no compa- 
nion at present besides little Fanny, who stands 
watching my looks as I write, and is crying for 
her sister. She says she is sure you are not weli, 
having discovered that my present trouble is about 
you. But do not think I w r ould thus repeat my 
sorrows to grieve thee. No ! it is to entreat thee 
not to make them insupportable, by adding what 
would be worse than all. Let us bear cheerfully 
an affliction which we have not brought upon our- 
selves, and remember there is a power who can 
better deliver us out of it than by the loss of thy 
innocence. Heaven preserve my dear child ! 

" Thy affectionate mother, . ,; 

The messenger, notwithstanding he promised to 
deliver this letter to Amanda, carried it first to his 
master, who, he imagined, would be glad to have 
an opportunity of giving it into her hands himself. 
His master was impatient to know the success of 
his proposal, and therefore broke open the letter 
privately, to see the contents. He was not a lit- 
tle moved at so true a picture of virtue in distress 
but, at the same time, was infinitely surprised to 
find his offers rejected. However, he resolved not 
to suppress the letter, but carefully sealed it up 
again, and carried it to Amanda. All his endea- 



276 VIRTUE. 

vours to see her were in vain, till she was assured 
he brought a letter from her mother. He would 
not part with it, but on condition that she would 
read it without leaving the room. — While she was 
perusing it, he fixed his eyes on her face with the 
deepest attention ; her concern gave a new softness 
to her beauty, and when she burst into tears, he 
could no longer refrain from bearing a part in her 
sorrow, and telling her, that he too had read the let- 
ter, and was resolved to make reparation for hav- 
ing been the occasion of it. My reader will not be 
displeased to see the second epistle, which he now 
wrote to Amanda's mother. 

"Madam, 
"I am full of shame, and will never forgive my- 
self if I have not your pardon for what I lately 
wrote. It was far from my intention to add 
trouble to the afflicted ; nor could any thing but 
my being a stranger to you have betrayed me into 
a fault, for which, if I live, I shall endeavour to 
make you amends as a son. You cannot be un- 
happy, while Amanda is your daughter ; nor shall 
be, if any thing can prevent it which is in the 
power of, Madam, 

" Your most obedient, 

" Humble servant, — ■ — ." 

This letter he sent by his steward, and soon 
after went up to town himself, to complete the gene- 
rous act he had now resolved on. By his friendship 
and assistance, Amanda's father was quickly in a 
condition of retrieving his perplexed affairs. To 
conclude, he married Amanda, and enjoyed the 
double satisfaction of having restored a worthy 
family to their former prosperity, and of making 
himself happy by an alliance to their virtues. 

The emperors of China select their wives out of 



VIRTUE. 277 

their own subjects: and, provided they are ac- 
complished with virtue and beauty, they regard 
not their estate or condition. 

A merchant of Provence, of a most amiable 
character, but of narrow circumstances, met with 
some considerable losses in trade, and became a 
bankrupt. Being reduced to penury and want, he 
went to Paris to seek some assistance. He waited 
on all his old customers in trade, represented to 
them his misfortunes, which he had taken every 
method to avoid, and begged them to enable him 
to pursue his business, assuring those to whom he 
was indebted, that his only wish was to be in a 
condition to pay them, and that he should die 
contentedly, could he but accomplish that wish. 
Every one he had applied to felt for his misfor- 
tunes, and promised to assist him, excepting one 
to whom he owed a thousand crowns, and w r ho, 
instead of pitying his misfortunes, threw him into 
prison. 

The unfortunate merchant's son, who was about 
twenty-two years of age, being informed of the sor- 
rowful situation of his father, hastened to Paris, 
threw himself at the feet of the unrelenting credi- 
tor, and, drowned in tears, besought him, with 
the most affecting expressions, to condescend to 
restore him to his father, protesting to him that, if 
he would not throw obstacles in the way to his 
father's re-establishing his affairs, of the possi- 
bility of which they had great reason to hope, he 
should be the first paid. He implored him to 
have pity on his youth, and to have some feeling 
for the misfortunes of an aged mother, encum- 
bered with eight children, reduced to want, and 
nearly on the point of perishing. Lastly, that, if 
these considerations were not capable of moving 
him to pity, he entreated him, at least, to permit 



278 VIRTUE, 

him to be confined in prison instead of his father, 
in order that he might be restored to his family. 

The youth uttered these expressions in so af- 
fecting a manner, that the creditor, struck with so 
much virtue and generosity, at once softened into 
tears, and raising the youth from his humble pos- 
ture, "Ah! my son," said he, "your father shall 
be released. So much love and respect which 
you have shewn for him make me ashamed of my- 
self. I have carried this matter too far; but I 
will endeavour for ever to efface the remembrance 
of it from your mind. I have an only daughter, 
who is worthy of you: she would do as much for 
me as you have done for your father. I will give 
her you, and, with her, all my fortune. Accept 
the offer I make you, and let us hasten to your 
father, to release him, and ask his consent." 

Adrastus, a man of deep erudition, profound 
reading, and of a philosophical turn of mind, 
chose principally to reside in the country, chiefly 
for the uninterrupted pleasures of contemplation. 
He was a man, not only of learning and property, 
but of philanthropy, and equally celebrated in 
his neighbourhood for wisdom and generosity. It 
happened that one of his tenants, although he 
rented the smallest farm, and had a very large 
family depending on its cultivation, was by far 
the most cheerful, and well disposed. His cot- 
tage, though small, was dressed by the hand 
of neatness; and frugality, with simplicity, 
were ever the guardians that attended upon 
his happy family. All situations and all sea- 
sons, from the beginning of spring to the end 
of winter, were rendered delightful by the happy 
bias of his constitution, which enabled him to 
turn all events to his advantage. In sorrow he 



VIRTUE. 279 

was humiliated, and in prosperity he was grateful. 
He had lived as tenant of that very farm when 
the father of Adrastus first took possession of the 
estate, of which it was a part; nor had he ever 
made a failure in the payment of his rent, nor 
ever had a quarrel in the parish. His toil was 
sweetened and alleviated by the thoughts of pro- 
viding for his offspring; and this constant em- 
ployment not only inspired him with health, but 
did not allow him leisure to indulge the whimsical 
wants of imagination, at the same time that it pro- 
tected him from all improper, impertinent, or vi- 
cious passions. He had in his time put many 
estranged handstogether; reconciled many pettish, 
peevish differences; settled many family breaches; 
suggested, while he was churchwarden, many a 
little scheme for the benefit of the poor; and never 
felt one emotion of envy at surveying the posses- 
sions of the rich. 

These unassuming, though solid virtues, gained 
him such reputation in the country wherein he re- 
sided, that he obtained, as it were proverbially, the 
appellation of "The Contented Cottager.'' — He 
was, in truth, 

" Passing rich, with forty pounds a year/' 

An account of him was transmitted to Adrastus, 
who went to pay him a visit, in order to see how 
truly report had characterized him ; for, though 
Adrastus lived and did much good in the country, 
yet his abstracted, philosophical, and sedentary 
situation, made him, personally, but little acquaint- 
ed with even his own tenants, who were generally 
turned to the steward for the conversation and 
business of quarter-day. 

A man of the contented cottager's disposition, 
however, was too important an object not to excite 
the curiosity of a philosopher; and, accordingly, he 



280 VIRTUE* 

set apart one afternoon, or rather evening, on pur* 
posefor this entertainment. Adrastus arrived atthe 
farmer's about half an hour after sun-set; when 
*? twilight grey had in her sober livery all things 
clad." The farmer, whose name was Matthew 
Mendland, w 7 as sitting at the door of his little cot- 
tage, smoking his pipe, and surrounded by his chil- 
dren; his wife was leaning over the fire, preparing 
a decent and wholesome supper. The farmer knew 
his landlord personally, and rose, as to his superior, 
offering him the best seat in his homely cottage. 

" Here your honour finds me/' said the farmer, 
"in a small but happy place. I have been upon 
your ground these many years; and, if you think 
good to renew my lease, which expires at Michael- 
mas, I shall most likely end my life in your service. 
If your honour likes me, I like you. Your dues are 
always ready to the hour; and I have no more rea- 
son to complain of my landlord, than he has of his 
tenant: and so — ." Adrastus interrupted him by 
desiring to see the lease, and to have a pen and ink, 
for the purpose of renewing it upon the spot. " As 
to pen and ink, Sir," replied the farmer, " I have 
no use for them; and so I never keep any by me. 
I can't read or write, and so such things are of no 
service; but if your honour wants to write, I can 
send to the shop for paper and ink, and I can easily 
send one of my boys to the green to pick up a quill; 
or if your honour is in a hurry, Tom shall borrow a 
feather from the old gander, who is, I see, just 
waddling to his bed." " It don't signify at present, 
farmer," said Adrastus, " HI sign it another time. 
But don't you really know any thing about books? 
I actually thought you was a scholar; that you had 
employed all your spare time in study; that you ga- 
thered your notions of economy, industry, and pa- 
ternal propriety, from historic examples, or tradi- 



VIRTUE. 281 

tionary annals." i( No, really, Sir, not I," said 
the farmer; " I am a very illiterate man. My fa- 
ther could not afford to give me an education, and 
I have had neither time nor opportunity since. Na- 
ture and the use of my eyes have been my only in- 
structors ; and if I have been able to live reputably 
to the age of threescore, and even to rear up my 
children soberly, cleanly, and virtuously, I owe it 
merely to them. Indeed, to say the truth, my bu- 
siness, as a farmer, threw in my way a thousand 
instructive objects. My yard is stocked with im- 
provement: at the end of that small slip of a gar- 
den, I have a bit of a bee-hive, filled with little 
industrious animals, who tell me what a shame it 
would be to lead the life of a drone: my maxim 
upon this is, Sir, that he who don't make some ho- 
ney, ought to eat none; and so this made me inde- 
fatigable to earn my meal before I sat dow T n to it. 
Nay, in this part of my duty, I am further instructed 
by the little creatures who inhabit the mole-hill. Is 
it possible for a man to see the poor things hard at 
work for the day of necessity, and not take the hint, 
and lay up a modicum for his own family? I have 
rested upon my spade, Sir, on purpose to look at 
their labours, and then I have gone to work again, 
lest they should have the sense to chide me for 
minding other people's business more than my own. 
I have an old house-dog, your honour — Here, Ho- 
nesty, Honesty, where are you, Honesty? — He, Sir, 
that aged animal, has kept my clothes by day, and 
my cottage by night, till he has not got a tooth in 
his head; and he does for me what I would do for 
one Thomas Trusty, whom I have loved since I was 
young, and no higher than my hand : he once did 
me a piece of service when it was most wanted, 
and while I have breath I shall never forget it. He, 
Sir, who has no gratitude, has no nature in him; 



282 VIRTUE. 

and an unnatural man is better dead than alive, be- 
cause when a person does no good to his neighbour, 
he has no business here, We are all born to do 
something, and he who does a kindness deserves to 
be well remembered for it. With regard to my 
duty as a husband, I learn that from the very pi- 
geons that coo and court around my dove-house. 
To this dear old dame I have been lawfully married 
forty years, and I cannot think what our great folks 
are about; I find such a pleasure in my constancy, 
as I am sure I could not receive from inconstancy; 
and the smiles of a good woman are a rich reward. 
With regard to the love I bear to these little ones, 
I am taught the duty which, as a father, I owe to 
them, by every living thing around me; the wren 
that builds her nest under my hovel, the fowls 
which peck about my yard, or swim upon my pond, 
the creatures which run about my pastures, teach 
me to be affectionate to their persons, and anxious 
for the preservation of my own offspring: and in 
this manner I have learned my lesson of wisdom 
and worship, truth and tenderness, from the beasts 
of my fields, and the birds of the air." 

Here the good man paused, and directed his eld- 
est daughter to draw some of his best harvest-home 
beer. Adrastus was astonished at his simplicity of 
manners, and at the soundness of his sense, as well 
as at the propriety of his remarks. "Fanner," said 
he, "you have distressed me, as well as delighted 
me. I came prepared to offer you assistance, and 
you have left me nothing to bestow. I have nothing 
that you have not, but a greater portion of money ; 
and you are so truly contented as you are, that any 
addition would, perhaps, disconcert the economy 
of your plan. You are a happy farmer, and a na- 
tural philosopher, without the use of large, syste- 
matic folios, or the toils of a sedentarv life. Give 



VIRTUE. 283 

me, however, the lease, that I may put it in my 
pocket: I will tear the lease, and 3' 

" How ! your honour," said the poor alarmed far- 
mer, " tear my lease, instead of renewing it ! Has 
then my freedom or my happiness offended you?" 

" Yes, Mr. Mendland," replied Adrastus, " I 
will tear the lease, because you have no farther use 
for it. The little spot of ground you have so long 
enriched by your care, shall henceforth be a patri- 
mony to your inheritance; you are the proprietor 
of it from this day. Call on me to-morrow morn- 
ing, and the writings of surrender shall be made 
out to you ; for the time to come, I must be con- 
sidered, not as your landlord, but your friend. Let 
me often see you at my table, and in my garden. 
In short, as frequently as the business of your fami- 
ly will permit, let me get to that wisdom and un- 
derstanding which surpasseth mere mechanical 
science, in the society of the contented cottager," 
The farmer would have dropped upon his knee ; 
but Adrastus prevented him, saying, "Rise, Mr. 
Mendland, the obligation is on my side : I have 
been obliged. In exchange for a few acres, for 
which I have no occasion, you have given me a set 
of maxims and sentiments, that are as the purified 
thrice-refined gold of Ophir, and shall never depart 
from me." From this moment, Adrastus and the 
farmer were intimate companions. 

Louis XII. of France, who was a very economical 
prince, was told by some one that he had been re- 
presented in a play as an avaricious man. u I had 
rather," replied he, " that my people should laugh 
at my avarice, than weep at my prodigality." An 
officer of rank in his army having ill-treated a pea- 
sant, he ordered him to be made to live for a few 
days upon wine and meat. The man, tired of this 
very heating diet, requested permission to have 



284 



VIRTUE. 



some bread allowed him. The king sent for him, 
and said to him, " How could you be so foolish 
as to ill-treat those persons who put bread into 
your mouth?" 

The Duke of Montausier, tutor to the son of 
Louis XIV. gave very often practical lessons of 
virtue to his pupil. He took him one day into the 
miserable cottage of a peasant, near the superb pa- 
lace of Versailles. u See, Sir/' said he, (i see, Sir, 
that it is under this straw roof, and in this wretch- 
ed hovel, that a father, a mother, and their children 
exist, who are incessantly labouring to procure 
that gold with which your palace is decorated, and 
who are nearly perishing with hunger to supply 
your table with dainties." On the day on which 
M. de Montausier resigned his situation of go- 
vernor to the dauphin, on his coming of age, he 
said to him, " If your royal higness is a man of 
honour, you will esteem me ; if you are not, you 
will hate me; and I shall but too well know the 
reason of your dislike.'* 

The wicked Judge Jeffries exhibited a striking 
instance of the power of virtue upon a mind the 
most vicious and profligate. He had no sooner 
retired to his lodgings at Taunton, to prepare him- 
self for the opening of his bloody commission, than 
he was called upon by the minister of the church 
of St. Mary Magdalen, in that town, who in a very 
mild manner remonstrated with him upon the ille- 
gality and barbarity of the business upon which he 
was then going to proceed. Jeffries heard with 
great calmness, and soon after he returned to Lon- 
don, sent for him, and presented him to a stall in 
the cathedral of Bristol. 

Virtue and prudence are forcibly described by 
King Lemuel, in the book of Proverbs. "Who can 
find a virtuous woman? for her price is far above ru- 



VIRTUE. 285 

bies. The heart of her husband doth safely trust in 
her; she will do him good, and noi evil, all the days 
of her life : she seeketh wool and flax, and worketh 
willingly with her hands; she layeth her hands to 
the spindle, and her hands hold the distaff. She 
stretcheth out her hands to the poor ; yea, she reach- 
eth out her hands to the needy; she openeth her 
mouth with wisdom, and in her tongue is the law of 
kindness: she looketh well to the ways of her house- 
hold, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her chil- 
dren rise up and call her blessed : her husband also, 
and he praiseth her : many daughters have done 
virtuously, but thou excellest them all," &c. 

There is not a more illustrious or beautiful exam- 
ple of virtue for the imitation of youth in true or fa- 
bulous history, than the story of the young Joseph, 
(see Impurity,) as recorded in Genesis, chap, 
xxxix. Not only that instance, but the whole 
conduct of his life are such admirable examples 
of wisdom and virtue, as must excite the most 
perfect esteem and love of his character, more 
than any fictitious description that ever was yet 
written. 

Mr. Seward, who has had access to some manu- 
script memoirs of the Fanshawe family, never yet 
published, tells us that therein Lady Fanshawe thus 
addressed her only son: 

M Endeavour to be innocent as a dove, but as 
wise as a serpent ; and let this lesson direct you 
most in the greater extremes of fortune : hate idle- 
ness, and avoid all passions. Be true in your 
words and actions. Unnecessarily deliver not 
your opinion; but when you do, let it be just, 
consistent, and plain. Be charitable in thought, 
word, and deed; and ever ready to forgive inju- 
ries done to yourself; and be more pleased to do 



286 , VIRTUE. 

good than to receive good. Be civil and obliging 
to all, (dutiful where God and nature command 
you,) but a friend to one : and that friendship 
keep sacred, as the greatest tie upon earth; and 
be sure to ground it upon virtue, for no other is 
either happy or lasting. Endeavour always to be 
content in that state of life to which it hath pleas- 
ed God to call you; and think it a great fault not 
to improve your time, either for the good of your 
soul, or the improvement of your understanding, 
health or estate; and as these are the most pleas- 
ing pastimes, so it will make you a cheerful old 
age, which is as necessary for you to design, as 
to make a provision to support the infirmities 
which decay oflstrength brings; and it was never 
seen that a vicious youth terminated in a con- 
tented, cheerful, old age, but perished out of 
countenance. 

" Ever keep the best qualified persons' com- 
pany, out of whom you will find advantage, and 
reserve some hours daily to examine yourself 
and fortune ; for if you embark yourself in per- 
petual conversation or recreation, you will cer- 
tainly shipwreck your mind and fortune. Re- 
member the proverb, ' Such as his company is, 
such is the man ;' and have glorious actions 
before your eyes, and think what will be your 
portion in heaven, as well as what you may desire 
upon earth. Manage your fortune prudently, and 
forget not that you must give God an account 
hereafter, and upon all occasions." 

The honour, influence, and power, of virtue 
and goodness, is admirably recorded in the book 
of Job, chap. xxix. when in his prosperity. '*Oh! 
that I were as in months past, as in the days 
when God preserved me ; when his candle shined 



VIRTUE. 287 

upon my head, and when by his light I walked 
through darkness; as I was in the days of my 
youth, when the secret of God was upon my 
tabernacle ; when the Almighty was yet with 
me, when my children w T ere about me : when I 
washed my steps with butter, and the rock 
poured me out rivers of oil. When I went out 
to the gate through the city; when I prepared 
my seat in the street ! TheVyoung men saw me, 
and hid themselves; and trte aged arose and 
stood up : the princes refrained talking, and laid 
their hand on their mouth. The^nobles held 
their peace, and their tongue qleave'd to the roof 
of their mouth. When the ear'h^d. me, th^ 
it blessed me ; and when the eye sWftne, it gave 
witness to me; because I delivered the poor 
that cried, and the fatherless, and him. that had 
none to help him. The blessing of him that was 
ready to perish came upon me ; and I caused the 
widow's heart to siijgTor joy. I put on righteous- 
ness, and it clothed me : my judgment was as a 
robe and a diadem. I was eyes to the blind, and 
feet was I to the lame. I w r as a father to the 
poor : and the cause which I knew not I search- 
ed out.; And I bralTfe the jaws of the w 7 icked, 
and plucked the spoil out of his teeth. Then 
I said, I shall die in my nest, and I shall Mul- 
tiply my days as the 1 sand-. V •'My root was spread 
out by the waters, and the dew lay all night 
upon my branch. My glory was fresh in me, 
and my bow was renewed in my hand. Unto 
me men gave ear, and waited, and kept silencfe-*^ 
at my counsel. After my words they sgake not 
again ; and my speech dropped upon them. And 
they waited for 'me as for the rain ; and they 
opened their mouths wide, as for the latfSt rain. 






288 VIRTUE. 

If I laughed on them, they believed it not ; 
and the light of my countenance they cast not 
down. I chose out their way, and sat chief, and 
dwelt as a king in the army, as one that com- 
forteth the mourners." 




THEf.N1> 



»lf£ ElfP. 



• V 





' ''"' LONDON: 

Printed by Anne Maurice, Fenchurch Street. 



Zti'KTF-D 



EDUCATION 



LETTRE PREMIERE, 



Vous savez depuis quel temps, Angelique, j'ai 
forme leprojet de rassembler quelques idees sur 
l'education des femmes ; c'est un sujet grave e£ 
fecond que j'ai medite longuement par gout et 
par de\oir, et sur lequel j'aimerais a jeter quel- 
ques apercus nouveaux. 

J'ai mesure l'etendue d'une ceuvre aussi vaste, 
et si je me decide a la tenter, c'est pour laisser 
a mes lilies et a la votre, mon amie, les resul- 
tats d'une experience deja longue et cherement 
acquise dans la carriere de l'enseignement, ou 
si souvent vous m'avez dit , que la vocation 
m'avait sagement placee ; vous devez presumer 
que si je n'esperais trouver des choses neuves 
en cette matierc , bi je n'avais le dessein d'e- 
tudicr quelques points qui n'ont etc ni obser- 



2 Education 

ves ni resolus encore, je ne me laisserais point 
aller a promener ma plume obscure sur cette 
question si grande ct si belle, qui a fait la celc- 
brite du peu de femmes qui Pont traitee , il est 
vrai, avec un talent si remarquable. 

Cependant s'il y a quelque temerite en moi r 
je ne pense pas qu'elle reside dans mon inten- 
tion de presenter des reflexions nouvelles a ce 
propos. Je ne me sens temeraireet audacieuse que 
dans le desir que j'eprouve de leur donner une 
forme assez attrayante pour etre comprise et 
recherchee. Jusqu'a ce jour vous l'avez vu , An- 
gelique , 1'education des femmes n'a principale- 
ment ete envisagee qit'att point de vue borne et 
incompiet de la vie privee. C'est a l'influence de 
la famille, aux soins et a la vigilance des meres 
que M mes Necker et Guizot et tant d'autres ecri- 
vains out confie leurs sages exhortations et leurs 
conseils si ingenieusement eclairis , qu'iis ont 
legue leurs observations si delicates et si judi- 
cieuses. 

lis n'ont pas epuise neanmoins tout ce qu'il y 
avait a dire sur l'education des jeunes filles, au 
sein du foyer maternel. Sans songer a leur en 
faire le plus leger reproche , je ne puis m'em- 
pecher de remarquer le vide qu'iis ont laisse 
comme instruction pratique; je suis forcee de 
voir ce qui leur manque du cote des methodes; 
je dirai que, peut-e^re, ifc n'ont pas apporte a 



DES FEMMES. 3 

l'esprit des jeunes illles la merac sollicitude qu'a 
la culture du cceur , tandis qu'il faudrait elever 
au raeme niveau ces deux puissances. 

Une objection assez forte qu'on peut adresser 
encore aux meilleurs livres que nous possedions 
sur l'edu cation des femmes, c'est qu'ils sont tous 
ecrits pour les hautes classes et non pour les fa- 
milies de la classe moyenne. 

Les lilies sans dot et d'une mediocre condition , 
qui sont appelees aujourd'hui a creer leur ave- 
nir elles-memes, comme les hommes a chercher 
dans leur intelligence courageuse cette instruc- 
tion reelle qui conduit au talent et constitue la 
fortune, trouvent rarement dans cette lecture 
les enseignements qui peuvent les animer et les 
secourir. Ces conseils d'interieur, ou tout se passe 
dans Faisance, avec ordre et mesure, ne sont 
guere a la portee des professions aventureuses 
qui se composent d'industriels , d'artistes , de pro- 
fesseurs, d'ouvriers et de bourgeois de tous les 
etages qui reventpour leurs enfans des jours de 
prosperite et de bonheur, et n'ont a leur leguer 
que le patrimoine du labeur et de la patience. 

J'apprecie, autant que personne , ces disser- 
tations remplies de raison et de savoir , ces 
apercus minutieux et incessants qui prennent la 
femme au sortir du berceau et devoilent si bicn 
les gouts, Tinstinct et les faiblesses de son en- 
lance. Plus d'une jeune femme privilegiee denais- 



i 



4 Education 

sance a puise , j'en suis sure , dans ces maximes 
de la morale la plus severe, dans ces preceptes 
de la vertu la plus charitable, des principes de 
force et de bonte qui out pu la guider heureu- 
sement au milieu du monde. Ces nuances delin- 
eates des convenances , ces precautions multi- 
plies, cet entourage qui compte les gestes et 
garrotte les pas des eleves , ces lisieres dorees qui 
tiennent leur intelligence captive, ne trouvez- 
vous pas , mon amie , qu'un tel cortege ne peut 
etre qu'a 1'usage des riches ? 

Vous avez admire comme moi cette analyse 
etudiee des hommes et des choses du monde , 
vous avez pu reconnaitre dans ce langage ele- 
gant et pur , dans cette peinture si finement co- 
loree des caracteres et des passions ambitieuses 
des hautes classes, la derniere lueur des tradi- 
tions litteraires du grand siecle. 

Mais quel profit direct peuvent tirer nos filles, 
je vous le demande , de cette direction impri- 
mee aux loisirs de la vie , de ces lecons de gout 
et d'elegante simplicite au sein de l'opulence et 
de la profusion? Qu'ont a faire les families obs- 
cures occupees du soin imperieux de pourvoir 
chaquejour a leur existence, deces recettes d'e- 
conomie domestique a 1'usage du luxe et dii 
confortable ? Ou'est-ii besoin d'apprendre aux 
meres sans fortune a enseigner la bonne gestion 
des domaines hereditaires a leurs filles , quand 



DES FEMMES. 5 

elles ne pen vent porter au contrat qui doit les 
unir qu'une profession honnete et lucrative qui 
assure leur independance et lenr honneur ? 

Ainsi meme pour l'education privee des femmes, 
c'est tout un ordre de considerations inconnues 
qu'il s'agit d'aborder aujourd'hui. 

En ne faisant point de theories , en prenant les 
faits lels qu'ils sont , il est incontestable qu'en 
France la societe marche dans des voies nou- 
velles qui etonnent et occupent les hommes qui 
observent et reflechissent. Tout est libre et de- 
classe autour de nous ; une impulsion etrange et 
mysterieuse nous entraine dans un mouvement 
rapide et desordonne ; chacun court, chacun se 
presse : la grande pensee du salut occupe tous 
les esprits, mais c 5 est la pensee du salut mate" 
riel. On dirait Timmense melee du Peuple de 
Dieu poursuivi par le bras oppresseur des Pha- 
raons; on se heurte , on se precipite > tout le 
monde veut monter et gravir ; on foule aux 
pieds les faibles , les timides, pour contempler, a 
l'abri des hauteurs sociales, la multitude insensee 
quis'agiteet se tord. Est-il extraordinaire qu'une 
telle perturbation ait rendu indispensables, dans 
l'education des femmes, d'importantes modifi- 
cations? 

La meme necessite , la meme imprevoyance , 
le meme engouement de luxe et d'egalite, qui 
donnent aux jeunes filles presque pauvres les vete- 



g Education 

mens aussi soyeux qu'a celles des classes riches ,. 
exigent pour leur esprit une parure avenante. A 
tort ou a raison, Finstruction des femmes s'ac- 
quiert partout egalement sans discernement et 
sans crainte de Favenir. Nul ne sait quelle sera 
la main puissante qui remettra l'harmonie au 
milieu de ce chaos. II est certain qu'en parlant 
toujours au nom de la morale de nos peres , ce 
n'est plus le meme langage qu'il faut faire en- 
tendre si Ton veut etre ecoute. Le grand art du 
passe dans Feducation des femmes etait de les 
tenir en charte privee, dans une situation pre- 
ventive continuelle qui leurinterdisait Fusage du 
mouvement et de la pensee. C'etait partout pre- 
cautions infinies et surveillance excessive. On 
songeait, avant toutes choses, a montrer aux aieux 
le nom pur et sans tache de la famille : la femme 
n'avait d'autre fonction que celle d'epouse et de 
mere, et son intelligence, en tournant sans cesse 
sur elle-meme, ne devait jamais depasser le seuil 
du toit domestique. Aujourd'hui, c'est un acte 
qui s'est accompli providentiellement , les femmes 
par la necessite ou par le sort sont tout pres de 
rivaliser d'instruction avec les hommes. Je ne 
sais si nous devons nous en applaudir , car on 
trouve, je crois. plutot les soucis que le bonheur 
sous les rameaux epais de 1'arbre de la science. 
Ouoi qu'il en soit, dans ce regne pacifique du 
travail et de rindustrie ou les femmes partagent 



DES FEMMES. 7 

la vie perilleuse et agitee des hommes, deja de- 
puis longtemps un grand nombre d'entre elles 
out marche seules, libres et maitresses de leur 
destinee, et pas une voix eclairee et amie n'est 
venue leur apprendre la sagesse et la force au 
milieu de la liber te; non pas cette sagesse nega- 
tive qui consiste a se sequestrer dumonde, mais 
celle qui vous empeche de faillir a travers les 
dangers. Je me propose, comme vous voyez, mon 
amie , de repondre aux besoins presents de l'edu- 
cation privee des filles sans fortune, en m'occu- 
pant d'indiquer des ressources nouvelles a la 
morale et a l'instruction. Quant a Peducation pu- 
blique , c'est un sujet presque neuf sur lequel 
il n'existe que quelques excellentes pages de 
M me Campan. II y a cependant grandement a dire 
et a faire sur les maisons d'education; j'essaierai 
de vous signaler les habitudes routinieres des di- 
rectrices et les prejuges enracines des parents ; il 
sera urgent de vous depeindre le personnel des 
professeurs, de vous montrer l'avenir mediocre 
et incertain des sous-maitresses. Je vous dirai 
la faiblesse des methodes et la frivolite des 
eludes. Je m'efforcerai surtout, en uiit d'ame- 
lioration , de restcr toujours dans les limites du 
possible; c'est a la pratique qu'il me semble 
utile d'arriver tout d'abord. Vous n'ignorez pas 
combien d'innovatious materielles peuvent etrc 1 
lentees et introduces , combien de progres et de 



a Education 

perfectionnements pourraient etre obtenus par 
des principes plus favorables aux acquisitions 
intellectuelles. Vous ne doutez pas enfin que je 
ne sois capable de produire des idees avancees, 
corame on dit, sur l'educationdes femmes ; mais 
je devine en outre quelle est la pensee iutime qui 
vous preoccupe et que vous gardez discretement 
en reserve. INTest-il pas vrai que vous dites inte- 
rieurement , par devers vous , que tout cela n'est 
rien, etque vous m'attendez al'article delicatde 
1'emancipation? Je vous entends me demander : 
Comment allcz-vous f aire pour vous tirer de la? 
Gardez-vous bien de croire que j'aie le dessein 
d'eluder cette haute question. Je vous ferai ma 
profession de foi sincere a ce sujet; vous saurez 
sous quel aspect je consitlere Televation sociale 
des femmes , quel remede je voudrais a leurs 
maux et par quelle voie j'aimerais a les f:ure 
participer aux ameliorations qu'elles ont le droit 
d'attendre , aussi bien que les hommes, clu mou- 
vement civilisateur. 

Loin de moi ces theories brulantes , a la lo~ 
gique radicale et fievreuse , qui renversent tout 
sans pouvoir edifier. Ce n'est pas que je meprise 
cette voix d'egalite qui s'est fait entendre en ces 
derniers temps , que je rejette cette parole d'e- 
mancipation qui est venue retentir a nos oreilles 
com me un bruit inconnu qui effraie. Une cla~ 
meur pareille n'est jamais produite par le caprice 



DES FEMMES. 9 

isole d'une volonte individuelle. II y a dans line 
telle rumeur le symptome evident d'un malaise 
et d'une position fausse dans l'existence actuelle 
desfemmes, qui fait pressentir une reforme; on 
ne pent pre voir comment et en quel temps ce 
changement pourra s'operer, et, a tout prendre, 
je ne sais s'il est dans notre interet d'en desirer 
1'accomplissement. 

Le genie du mal aura toujours une si large 
part aux evenements du monde , qu'on se laisse 
aller a l'indifference sur les transformations di- 
verses qui viennent a s'effectuer dans les lois 
humaines. 

Le jour ou de nouveaux droits seront sanc- 
tionnes pour les femmes, sera peut-etre l'indice 
que d'autres devoirs et de nouvelles charges 
s'appesantiront sur elles. Leur sort n'est-il pas 
Je meme que ceiui des penples , et ne serait-ce 
pas a la condition de porter un fardeau plus 
lourd qu'on nous permettrait de monter les de- 
gres de l'echelle sociale? 

II resulte toutefois de tant d'idees etranges qui 
agitent sourdement les esprits, que les vieilles 
fondations de la morale ancienne deviennent va- 
cillantes et peu sures ; joignez a cela l'idolatrie 
renaissante de lamatiere, etvous concevrez que 
la crise ne pcut aller qu'en empirant au lieu de 
s'afTaiblir. 

Lorsque, par une force providentielle dont 



do Education 

nous ignorons la loi, le lien religieux qui unit 
line societe a Dieu et la relie elle-meme en un 
seul faisceau , vient a se rompre , n'essayez pas 
de le ressouder, et encore nioins n'imaginez pas 
etre assez habile pour en former un autre de 
toutes pieces. C'est une ceuvre gigantesque qui 
demande au Createur eternel quelques-unes de 
ces journees que nous nommons des siecles, et a 
laquelle il sacrifie des millions de travailleurs au 
bras formidable, a Tame la plus devouee et la 
plus belle. 

Ce qu'il y a de plus prudent a faire dans ces 
temps de doute et d'affaissement moral , c'est de 
chercher dans sa raison intelligente et libre la 
force individuelle qui nous protege, c'est de se 
refugier au for interieur de la conscience et de 
la volonte, qui nous sont laissees pendant ces 
longues annees d'intermittence, commeun abri 
sur et consolant que la demoralisation ne peut 
atteindre. C'est alors que Teducation est toute 
puissante , parce qu'elle agit isolement sur le 
cceur et sur Tesprit , lentement et a toute heure. 
Je dirai done, pour aller droit au but, que les 
femmes, qui sont les plus exposees parleur na- 
ture douce et facile a recevoir Fempreinte fu- 
neste des esperances trompeuses ou des douleurs 
exagerees qui courent le monde , ont plus besoin 
que jamais de puiser en leur propre valeur le 
savoir et le discernement qui regardent et qui 



DES FEMMES. 11 

jugent avant d'approuver et de choisir. Cest 
done par une instruction etendue et solide qu'on 
peut leur inspirer la dignite de leur etre et les 
sauver de la flatterie enivrante qui se plait a les 
bercer dans l'ignorance pour les seduire et pour 
les perdre. 

Plus je reflechis a la grandeur du sujet qui 
m'occupe, plus je decouvre le nombre infini de 
points accidentels qu'il embrasse ; je veux ce- 
pendant vous donner un apercu des matieres que 
je me propose de traiter. Voici a peu pres le 
contenu pele-mele des principaux chapitres : 

Des methodes. 

MM. Levi et Aime Martin. 

M mes Necker, Campan, Remusat, Guizot, etc. 

De la maison de Saint-Denis. 

Fenelon , Fourrier et Jacotot. 

Emancipation des femmes. 

De l'Universite des femmes, ecoles normales. 

Education professionnelle et professions de 
femmes. 

Des ouvrages manuels. 

De Teducation publique. 

Des communautes religieuses de femmes. 

De Teducation particuliere avec des maitres et 
sous-maitres. 

De Taction sur la volonte. , 

Du sentiment religieux. 



12 Education 

Poesie des enfants. 
Des langues. 
Des arts. 
Des sciences. 
Influence de la lecture. 
De la beaute. 

Des vocations, et de celle de l'enseignement en 
particulier. 

Des gouts et des aptitudes. 

Des Dames patronnesses. 

De l'aristocratie des femmes. 

Considerations sur le mariage. 

Du celibat des femmes. 

De la vie de familie. 

De l'influence des femmes sur la societe. 

II me serait facile d'agrandir encore l'eten- 
due de cette nomenclature , quoiqu'en verite il 
y ait la deja ample matiere a plus d'un volume; 
mais pour le moment je vous fais part de ce 
programme ; je desire qu'il soit approuve par 
vous. Dites-moi done a present, chere Ange- 
lique, quel est le souffle inspirateur qu'il faut 
que j'invoque pour ecrire des pages qui soient 
dignes d'un si noble sujet ; ou done vais-je trou- 
ver ce feu divin qui rechauffe et feconde un tra- 
vail d'aussi longue haleine? J'espere en la pensee 
qui m'a suggere cette entreprise. Je compte sur 
le sentiment profond de la tendresse la plus vive, 



DES FEMMES. 13 

sur cet amour de mere, source delicieuse et in- 
tarissable ou M me de Sevigne puisait les paroles 
de parfum et de miel qui coulaient si eloquentes 
de sa bouche, au souvenir de sa fille adoree. Je 
m'estimerais heureuse si une seule mere , de- 
iiante et comprimee par la crainte de son impuis- 
sance , entreprenait a ma solicitation et condui- 
sait jusqu'a la fin l'instruction complete de ses 
enfants; je benirais ma tentative si a ma voix 
emancipatrice une jeune fille pauvre et decou- 
ragee par la reprobation qui deprime les intelli- 
gences en les classant. pouvait se relever inde- 
pendante et fiere d'elle-meme au moment de 
succomber sous le poids de sa faiblesse et de 
son inertie. 

C'est sur vous aussi que je m'appuie, c'est 
votre jugement si clairvoyant et si libre qui 
me soutiendra dans ce vovaize au lonir cours. 
Adieu done, amie! comme un explorateur hard] 
et intrepide qui brule de parcourir des regions 
inconnues , je pars gaiement; mon ciel est pur, 
I'cspoir enfle mes voiles ; je vous raconterai 
successivement les aventures de ma traversee 
lointaine. 



14 Education 



«M«oo9<>ooo9(><>o«<>04<7oaa4<><>o<><>oa<>d<><>a994<}oooooooo(>ooao<}<Mo«<>a<}ooooa<>a3 aooaoo j«c< 



LETTRE DEUXIEME. 



Vous avez recu ma lettre, Angelique, et vous 
•etes assez bonne pour m'encourager et m'ap- 
plaudir. Depuis ce temps, la tache que j'ai en- 
treprise ne me laisse plus en repos, elle est de- 
venue pour moi une idee fixe qui me poursuit et 
m'aiguillonne. 

Apres cette epitre d'introduction, je me suis 
demande par ou j'allais entrer en matiere. Pene- 
tree de la gravite queje devais donner a ma 
parole, j'ai interroge les lumieres du passe; 
voulant marcher avec assurance, j'ai invoque 
1'experience des traditions et de la sagesse; 
mais, vous le savez, mon amie, la verite est une 
beaute sauvage qui s'enfuit comme une ombre 
des qu'on commence a l'entrevoir ; je n'ai done 
pas la pretention de vous dire que j'ai rencontre 
la base unique et absolue sur laquelle doit re- 
poser aujourd'hiii 1'education des femmes. Ce- 



DES FEMMES. 15 

pendant vons pourrez voir par ce qui va suivre 
que je me suis appliquee a la chercher. Toute- 
fois, je n'ai pas juge qu'il fut utile de remonter a 
1'origine du sentiment et de la conscience. J'ai 
craint de m'engager dans les tenebres myste- 
rieuses des abstractions philosophiques : on est 
trop sujet a s'egarer en s'evertuant a resserrer 
dans une definition ces questions nebuleuses qui 
renlerment Tinlini et Incomprehensible. Mais 
rassurez-vous : si je crois a notre extreme fai- 
blesse, j'ai une foi ardente en la toute-puissance 
de Dieu ; si pour moi l'homme n'est qu'un voya- 
geiir aveugle qui chemine en tatonnant, je n'ou- 
biie pas que la Providence le conduit par la 
main , et que sa voix penctrante et douce le 
sauve du peril , toutes les fois qu'il prete Toreille 
a ses inspirations. 

Jusqu'a ce jour on a vu 1'education des fem- 
mes s'appuyer tour-a-tour sur la philosophic, 
stir l'obeissance aux lois civiles , sur une morale 
independante des religions, on sur la religion 
eile-meme. Puis , quelques systemes ont essaye 
de conduire au bonheur et a la perfection par 
les succcs du monde et les joies intimes de la 
famille ou |)ar Tabnegation et le sacrifice: d'au- 
tres enfin esperent a cette heure les rencontrer 
dans rindustrie. 

Mais peut-on croire que les doctrines philo- 
sophiques et la science sociale soicnt bien ha- 



36 Education 

biles a connaitre et a conduire les destinees 
morales des peuples, lorsqu'on voit leurs codes 
n'avoir de valeur qu'a la condition d'etre dictes 
par les faits accomplis qui se transforment sans 
cesse. Aussi je ne m'enquiers point du principe 
infaillible qui doit servir de vehicule a la vo> 
lonte, je suis certaine que l'homme etant ne pour 
obeir, doitetre fait pour vouloir; soit qu'il s'agite 
dans sa force ou s'endorme dans son indolence , 
il peut toujours maitriser les attractions qui font 
battre son cceur, aussi bien que les repulsions 
qui l'arretent. 

Oh ! s'il nous etait donne de penetrer les 
lois eternelles qui president aux aspirations de 
Fame, comme nous connaissons les instincts im- 
muables qui veillenta la conservation materielle 
de notre etre , la morale serait universelle et 
invariable ; au lieu d'avoir cette mobilite qui 
chagrinait Fame si chretienne de Pascal , elle de- 
viendrait facile a pratiquer pour tons , et Pedu- 
cation, qui tant de fois voit chanceler la base 
sur laquelle on s'efforce de Pappuyer, serait une 
science positive dont la culture produirait par- 
tout des fruits sains et savoureux. 

Vaindesir que celui-la! a quoi sert d'exprimer 
desvceuxinutiles, et pourquoi s'attrister de cette 
inevitable difference? Quelle erreur de soupirer 
ainsi apres une introuvable unite ! Fille des 
mceurs et des usages ? la morale se diversifie 



DES FEMMES. 17 

suivant les climats ; elle change selon les temps 
et les lieux, recoit son caractere des lois* et de la 
religion prescrite, modifie ses preceptes suivant 
les besoins et les idees de chaque societe et de 
chaque nation. 

Aussi bien les peuples primitifs n'ont point 
attendu qu'une formule theorique vint leur en- 
seigner les lecons qu'il fallait donner a Fenfance; 
avec la premiere mere a commence Feduca- 
tion de famille et Feducation sociale. 

Interrogez, a Forigine des temps, l'intelligence 
humaine ^essayant a deviner Fenigme de nos 
devoirs sur cette terre : eclairee par la raison et 
guidee par la conscience, elle sait deja faire 
pratiquer la justice et moderer la fougue des 
passions ; eprise des merveilles de la creation et 
de la grandeur divine , elle eleve l'esprit et le 
cceur par des essais de.l'art, en faisant imiter 
les ceuvres de la nature et les perfections de 
Dieu. On voit le vieillard experimente recom- 
mander a la jeunesse la prudence et l'oubli 
de soi , le poete admire se fait ecouter avec 
ivresse en repetant l'hymne saintequi apprend a 
remercier le Ciel d'un bienfait; puis on entend, 
plus loin, des chants plaintifs qui deplorentet 
jugent le crime, en dirigeant les genereuses 
pensees de rhomme sur la trace des nobles 
actions. 

Mais parmi ces concerts des populations qui 

2 



48 Education 

passent et disparaissent, et qui du berceau a la 
tombe modulent les memes accords, entendez 
une voix qui domine toutes les autres, un vceu 
qui revient sans cesse et toujours de plus en 
plus pressant. D'ou vient cette imposante priere 
qui se prolonge de siecle en siecle plus reten- 
tissante que le bruit de l'ocean souleve par les 
tempetes? Pourquoi ces nuages d'encens qui 
obscurcissent Fazur des hemispheres? Si vous 
voulez connaitre la cause d'une clameur si 
grande, on vous repondra : C'est le bonheur ; 
voila ce que Fame demande constamntent a ce- 
lui qui a mis en elle la pensee de cet insatiable 
desir. 

Les traditions les plus lointaines nousmontrent 
Phomme poursuivant la felicite sur terre, a tra- 
vers toutes les conceptions que peut enfanter 
son imagination feconde. L'idee du bonheur est 
innee en nous ; c'est une illusion , une chimere 
que chacun percoit a sa guise. La sagesse an- 
tique et moderne a beau repeter que le principe 
du mal et l'imperfection de notre nature s'op- 
posent a sa realisation complete ici-bas , les in- 
dividus comme les masses le poursuivent sous 
une forme ou sous une autre, de toute la force 
de leurs facultes; et le reve le plus pur du sen- 
timent religieux lui-meme, sa plus chere espe- 
rance, est encore le bonheur qu'il eternise dans 
Ja vie future. Faut-il s'etonner que la morale et 



DES FEMMES. 19 

Teducation aient essaye de placer leurs fonde- 
ments sur cette energique expression du moi 
humainPU semblait difficile dc trcmver an plus 
puissant levier pour soulever le monde. 

Quoi ! le bonheur, cette esperance vague, cette 
satisfaction universelle qui ne peut exister, se- 
rait le principe fondamental de l'education ? Ce 
serait pour les entourer de bonheur, qu'on eleve- 
rait les homines ! ]\on ! si le bonheur etait sur 
terre il devrait repoirdre a tout, se trouver dans 
toute chose, et chacun pourrait se desalterer 
sans lassitude et sans obstacles a sa source de- 
licieuse. Mais bien loin de la, Pegoisme impie , 
l'envie qui dechire, les soupirs etouffes , les de- 
ceptions et l'attente vaine, voila ce qu'on ren- 
contre dans le monde : faibles et chancelants, 
toujours destines a combattre , les hommes 
doivent etre prepares au contraire pour la lutte 
etla conquete. II faut quel'enfance, comme Page 
mur, s'aguerrisse contre cet avenir, et triomphe 
sans relache des privations et du tnalheur; que 
!'une apprenne a vaincre sa funeste mobilite, et 
que Pautre se raffermisse sans cesse contre la 
cruelle pensee du desespoir. 

L'education doit accoutumer la jeunessc a 
supporter la gene et les clegouts dont la vie 
abonde , l'endurcir contre la douleur, la rendre 
compatissante, et lui montrcr la route des succes 
et ile la gloirc dans la patience et le travail, 



so Education 

Mais la religion n'est-elle pas l'appui sur et 
inebranlable que l'education doit desirer et 
choisir ? Ici, ma chere Angelique , j'eprouve le 
besoin de recueillir un peu mes idees avant de 
vous devoiler mes convictions intimes, et de 
confier timidement a votre amitie les pensees 
qui viennent m'assaillir en foule en abordant 
un sujet si grave et si pro fond. 

INe trouvez-vous pas, mon amie, qu'il serait 
necessaire de diviser cette derniere question en 
deux parties ; ne faudrait-il pas faire une dis- 
tinction entre les religions et le sentiment re- 
ligieux? 

Si Ton me demande : L'education peut-elle 
trouver une base inalterable dans le sentiment 
religieux, dans ceprincipe vital, pour ainsi dire, 
qui brille au coeur aussitot que Fidee? les marques 
presque divines qu'il a imprimees aux ceuvres de 
Thomme sur la terre sauront repondre pour moi. 

Oh ! que je plains cette aride philosophic , qui 
s'est efforcee de resserrer les puissances de Fame, 
dans la sphere etroite de la raison isolee; tandis 
que les plus nobles facultes reclament l'immen- 
site et recherchent TinQni ! 

Aussi, voyez comme on dedaigne aujourd'hui 
les lecons decevantes des philosophes, regardez 
si l'enfant estprive de reponse quand il demande 
qui fait gronder la foudre , pousser l'herbe et 
briller le soleil ! Quoi ! vous voudriez eteindre 



DES FEVIMES. 21 

ce sentiment si merveilleux qui fait les poetes au 
suave langage , les legislateurs inspires charges 
de traduire le verbe eternel de Dieu , ainsi que 
Ton voit ces germes legers, ces molecules voya- 
geuses , pousses de loin par les vents rapides, 
s'arreter sur les hautes cimes qui doivent les 
recueillir et les fertiliser? 

Oui, l'education doit puiser, a la source du 
sentiment religieux , la volonte qui fait le ge- 
nie, et l'amour qui rend juste et bon. 

Devant la tombe qui s'entr'ouvre ou le choc 
inattendu qui brise cruellement Famitie, quand 
la raison coramande la patience ou la distraction 
qui menent al'oubli, c'est lui seul qui sait con- 
soler. 

Oh ! oui , mon amie, il faut ecouter cette voix 
interieure, et cherir cette invisible chaine , qui 
relie Phomme a Dieu ; il faut que Feducation 
choisisse cette roche du rivage pour edifier le 
phare lumineux qui conduit au port les passa- 
gers qui s'egarent ou les naufrages qui ont perdu 
1'espoir. Oui, le sentiment religieux est la base la 
plus large et la plus forte que puisse prendre l'e- 
ducation, parce quec'est un cri de la conscience 
libre et intelligente, qui parle eternellement le 
mcme langage au cneur de tous les homines. 

Mais au milieu des religions sociales , sujettes 
aux vicissitudes des siecles et que la Providence 
translonne etmodiiie dans sa toute-puissance, la 



22 Education 

religion peut-elle etre la baseuniverselle, exclu- 
sive de l'education ? Je pense que non. 

En effet , l'education existe independamment 
des religions particulieres qui unissent les hom- 
ines entre eux ; l'education est un bien dont 
jouissent les sceptiques etles croyants, ceux qui 
errent comme ceux qui protestent. 

Dans tous les siecles et dans tous les pays , je 
ne connais que trois principes qui doivent ser- 
vir de regie universelle auxj actions humaines 
et de bases fondamentales a Peducation : c'est 
le sentiment de l'iiifini , la conscience et la 
raison. 

A la raison appartient l'examen, la liberte in- 
terieure et tout ce qui est du domaine libre de 
Tintelligence ; toutefois la soumission exterieure 
aux conventions existantes est un devoir que la 
societe reclame. C'est ce qui constitue, avec le 
sentiment religieux, trois vertus bien distinctes 
qui n'ont rien d'aveugle. 

Parle sentiment de I'infini, les elans sublimes 
du coeur vont se raviver au sein de l'Eternel , et 
redescendent comme one douce rosee pour ver- 
ser des pleurs sur les souffrances de l'huma- 
nite. 

Par la raison, on developpe la liberte inteliec- 
tuelle, et par respect pour la societe , on apprend 
a se soumettre aux obligations qu'elle impose. 
Cultiver le sentiment religieux doit etre la' 



DES FEMMES. Td 

premiere vertu de Feducation ; obeir a sa rai- 
son et a sa conscience coute que coute, voila la 
seconde. 

Se conformer aux usages, quand ils sont des 
conventions sacrees dans un pays , dans une 
famille , telle est la troisieme, qui n'est pas la 
moins meritante. 

Ainsi, en d'autres termes, Feducation prend 
son origine dans la foi religieuse et dans Fexer- 
cice de Fintelligence me me independante et sans 
bornes, guidee par la conscience et la raison, et 
dans les habitudes d'une soumission constante, 
aux fictions necessaires de la societe, quel que 
soit le jugement que la raison prononce. 

Je ne sais, mon amie, si apres avoir applaudi 
aux apercus generaux que j'avais jetes d'abord, 
vous aimerez ce travail ou je penetre plus avant 
dans ces vastes parages. 

Je ne sais si vous trouverez justes les lois que 
j'indique , et si elles seront sanctionnees par 
vous. 

Cependant, relisez-les bien ; regardez atten- 
tivement le monde dans ses realites actuelles , 
et sa structure dans ce qu'elle a d'indestructible 
et d'invariable , et vous verrez peut-etre qu'en 
dehors des fermes appuis de ces principes anti- 
ques , sur lesquels j'ai longuement medite, nous 
ne pouvons montrer a nos enfants (prune route 
mou van te et sans issue. Ce n'est pas entre deux 



24 Education 

meres que F amour maternel doit placer ses en- 
seignements, nous n'avons pas besoin de nous 
encourager mutuellement a la tendresse pour 
nos filles : apres les devoirs si imperieux de ma 
profession , les miennes remplissent toute ma 
pensee et occupent tons mes loisirs; et vous, 
qui avez deja consacre aux soins de votre Laure 
cherie , de longues et penibles veilles, et qui, 
sous Finspiration de sa premiere enfance , avez 
depose, dans un livre destine au jeune age , les 
essais remarquables de votre debut dans la car- 
riere que vous poursuivez depuis avec succes; 
sur tout ce qui vous reste a faire , essayez ,. exa- 
minez si vous ne trouverez pas a vous etayer 
plus fortement encore sur les fondations que je 
m'efforce d'exhausser. Pour moi, mon amie, je 
vous le dis comme a toutes les meres, j'ai mu- 
rement reflechi sur les dogmes salutaires que 
j'invoque; je les pratique par devoir sur la 
grande famille que la Providence confie chaque 
jour a mes soins ; mais Fetude du cceur et la 
science du monde m'ont appris a les aimer \ et 
dans toute la sincerite de ma parole, apres avoir 
ardemment cherche s'il en existait de meilleurs, 
je les proclame comme les plus sages et les plus 
feconds. 

II me resterait done , pour clore cette epi-* 
tre , a vous parler de Findustrie dans ses 
rapports avec Feducation des femmes, II est 



DES FEMMES. 25 

inutile , je pense, de (aire observer que Findus- 
trie , qui n'est qu'une application de Intelli- 
gence, a ouvert, par le travail, des routes nou- 
velles a ses efforts et a son activite. Je cherche- 
rai l'idealite, les chances de bonheur que peut 
tro uver notre cpoque dans eet attrait du luxe 
et de la richesse qui forme son esperance et sa 
foi ; j'essaierai de montrer ce que les femmes 
peuvent acquerir en moralite, en dignite et en 
intelligence dans ces progres si rapides de la 
matiere. 

Deja vous avez entendu prononcer la qualifi- 
cation recente d'education , ou plutot d'instruc- 
tion professionnelle , car il me semble qu'elle 
doit appartenir a la sphere e ten due que T in- 
struction embrasse ; je me trouve forcement 
condiiite a traiter cette importante question dans 
ma prochaine lettre. 

Je prendrai plaisir k vous depeindre l'attrait 
at la diversite des professions des femmes et les 
avantages reels qui resulteraient pour elles d'un 
enseignement theorique, universel, puise et de- 
montre dans la pratique elle-meme; je ferai res- 
sortir les ameliorations qui en decouleraient pour 
leur position sociale. 

En faisant concorder mes previsions avec les 
bases fondamentales que j'ai posees a priori , je 
montrerai comment la moralite sur laquelle je 
m'appuie peut seule instituer et etablir avec 



26 Education 

certitude et solidite une fondation si importante; 
comment elle peut recueillir les vocations et for- 
tifier le cceur et l'esprit de son autorite fertili- 
sante. 

Adieu, chere amie , a une autre fois, et n'ou- 
bliez pas de me red ire au plus vite votre im- 
pression premiere quand ma pensce vons arri- 
-*era. 



**iSfeK#*gB$***ggg*« 4 



DES FEMMES. 27 



w&s &aG+&t4*0e*lQGQ<$9&o&eGo&eQ«$Q#Q&9 QaG o$6&mGo*oO96«GO&QOOGai&a 



LETTRE TROISIEME. 



Ma bien chere amie, j'envie votre sejour calme 
et silencieux loin du tumulte de Paris et de ses 
exigences qui rendent la pensee si distraite et 
gaspillent tant d'heures. Vous avez plus de repos 
d'esprit que moi, pour conduire a bien l'ceuvre 
qui vous occupe. Votre livre s'acheve, vous n'a- 
vez plus qua le revoir,dites-vous; le mien a peine 
commence. Vous etes bien moins restreinte et 
plus favorisee ; vous venez de vivre dans un 
monde d'harmonie et d'esperance , vous avez 
seme partout sur vos pas des fleurs odorantes, et 
quand Thiver fait deja ressentir son souffle glace 
autour de nous , il ne tient qu'a vous, heureux 
poete, de respirer encore Pair doux et embaume 
qu'elles exhalent en vos retraites mysterieuses. 

Tandis que moi, vous le croirez sans peine, les 
rives que je parcours sont plus arides et plus 
severes; quoique tracee d'avance, ma route n'est 



28 Education 

pas sans entraves; je redoute parfois que ma gra- 
vite ne provoque la monotonie et la tristesse; si 
j'echappe a l'entrainement de Penthousiasme et 
des reves, je ne voudrais cependant pas m'aban- 
donner an rapide courant des reflexions vulgai- 
res, aujourdnui surtoutque j'ailedessein d' exa- 
miner avec vous cette question nouvelle des 
professions speciales. 

Vous vous rappelez ce que je vous disais a ce 
propos dans ma derniere lettre; eh bien! mon 
amie, je ne sais comment il se fait que je traite 
fortuitement ce sujet dans celle-ci, juste au mo- 
ment ou il preoccupe deux hommes haut places 
dans les fonctions administratives *. Vous qui 
aimez tant a vous nourrir des conceptions qui 
ont un caractere marquant de sociabilite , qui 
etes si attentive a observer parmi les projets 
qui s'elaborent ceux qui se distinguent par la 
grandeur et la fecondite, vous avez du suivre, 
avec un interet egal au mien, la controverse qui 
vient de s'elever sur les probabilites d'une insti- 
tution nationale destinee a Fenscignement des 
professions de jeunes gens. 

L'opportunite d'une telle fondation n'est plus 
mise en doute par personne ; de tous cotes la 
science economique avec son esprit organisateur 
et positif , le genie de l'epoque actif et delibere 

a MM. Michel Chevalier et Saint-Marc-Girardin. 



DES FEMMES. 29 

reclament au nom tie la puissance industrielle 
l'universite des travailleurs. Convaincu des ame- 
liorations importantes qui doivent resulter de 
Paccroissement des forces productives, on de- 
mande avec instance un atelier modele pour les 
apprentissages , une vaste ecole ouverte ct tous 
les etats. 

Toutefois, si Ton admet la necessite de de- 
tourner la majeure partie de la jeunesse du 
charme des belles-lettres, si Ton s'accorde a re- 
garder les humanites grecques et Iatines comme 
un bagage inutile dans la plupart des carrieres 
qu'elle parcourt, je revendiquerai au meme titre 
une reforme equivalente a l'egard des jeunes 
filles. 

Que fait-on, en effet, pour cette foule de jeu- 
nes personnes qui, convenablement pourvues 
dans le present, ont a redouter tant de privations 
de l'avenir? A quoi sert de les livrer si longtemps 
aux connaissances mediocres et vaniteuses qui 
consument sans resultat les plus belles annees de 
leur existence ? a quoi bon ces ebauches d'arts 
qu'on delaisse, ces nomenclatures ecourtees de 
geographie et d'histoire, ces noms barbares de 
tant de races dynastiques ? 

Est-ce une education raisonnee que celle qui 
laisse ecouler inutilement la seve si pure et si 
precoce de l'enfance? II y a bien longtemps que 
]$ si i is condamnee agemirplus souvent que toute 



30 Education 

autre en voyant les belles qualites de l'intelh- 
gence se paralyser dans le vide des theories. Des 
moyens analogues, employes pour 1'cducation des 
femmes, presentent des ecueils et des dangers pa- 
reils a ceux qu'on signale pour les facultes in- 
tellectuelles des hommes. 

On dirait que la science enseignante se plait a 
jeter partout un voile obscur pour rendre indis- 
pensable le cortege dispendieuxdes explicateurs, 
et qu'elle a pris a tache d'effrayer l'esprit et la 
raison native des enfants, pour les rendre inca- 
pables a tout jamais de se mouvoir sans leur 
assistance. 

L'education generale en France, qui n'est pas 
meme d'accord sur le livre moral, unique et 
permanent qu'elle doit placer entre les mains de 
Fadolescence , s'en va, jetant a tous des notions 
de belles-lettres et de beaux-arts, comme si elle 
voulait provoquer et pousser toutes les vocations 
aux professions litteraires et poetiques. 

Si la route des jeunes gens se prolonge lente- 
ment et outre mesure, celle des jeunes filles de- 
pense les deux plus beaux lustres de leur vie a 
repeter peniblement des verbes irreguliers et de- 
fectifs; la grammaire, voila le premier livre qu'on 
place sous les yeux si distraits et si mobiles d'une 
enfant; c'est une enigme perpetuelle , un recueil 
hieroglyphique sans dessin et sans couleur qu'on 
offre a son esprit, qui jusqu'alors n'a vecu que 



DES FEMMES. 31 

par les sens, et ii'a Lien compris que les images*; 
Si l'on voulait donner une profession pedagogique 
a une eleve, c'est a peine s'il faudrait lui impo- 
ser ce code classique des lois du laugage. 

La declamation, l'eloquence, l'art du littera- 
teur, du poete lui-meme ne demandent qu'un 
modele, et lesexerGices qu'il renferme sont inde- 
pendants de la syntaxe et de Tanalyse gramiiiaii- 
cale, qui ne viennenl qu'apres. Rachel a eonipris 
Racine avaat l'orthographe; peut-etre ne la 
saura-t-elle jamais, si on ne la lui eiis*eigue 
qu'avec Eetellier ou Ghapsal. 

Dans les autres carrieres, f indiqoisrai comnfe 
tres-utile le livre le plus en rapport avec cliaque 
profession : il faudrait prendre la vie ou les me- 
moires d'uu grand artiste, d'un inventeur indus- 
triel celebre dans sa specialite; cc serait un 
manuel excellent pour tout eleve en industries 
l'enseignement professionnel devrait le procurer 
a tous les etats et le creer pour ceux auxquels il 
manque. 

Un tel livre, riche de faits tradltionnels , cha- 
leureusement ecrit dans un but general et prati- 
que, servirait pour apprendre la lecture et For- 
thographe a l'eleve; elle y trouverait assez de 
geographic, d'histoire et de litterature pour y 
rapporter ce quiluiserait utileou cequ'il lui plai- 
rait d'en chercher ailleurs; elle aimerait a lire ce 
qu'on v dit a tout propos de l'ctat qu'elle pre- 



32 &DUCATIGN 

fere, et se proposerait d'imiter le maitre illustre 
qui raconte sa vie et ses travaux , Pouvriere on 
Partiste renommee dont on exalte la gloire. 

Mais avant de passer a Papplication , je crains 
de ne pas avoir assez insiste sur Pindispensable 
necessite de cette organisation nouvelle d'ensei- 
gnement qui pent devenir une ancre de salut 
dans le denuement et la detresse. 

Vous souvenez-vous, mon amie, de Petonnante 
prophetie du philosophe genevois : « Je veux abso- 
lument qu'Emile apprenne un metier, parce que 
nous approchons de Petat de crise et du siecle 
des revolutions. » Le siecle est en effet venu, et 
il a inflige a tous la severe obligation du travail. 
Pauvre Jean- Jacques ! luiqui demandaitpour les 
femmes tant d'activite, qui les vouiait si occu- 
pees , si attentives aux travaux du menage; lui 
qui nenous aimaitni frivoles, ni insoucieuses, s'il 
avait vu son eleve privilegie par la richesse et la 
naissance reduit sous le nouveau regime au re- 
venu modique de son etat, tourmente par le sort 
et se prenant corps a corps avec la concurrence : 
il eut regrette ? j'en suis sure, de n'avoir donne 
a Sophie, la compagne de son Emile, que les 
qualites industrieuses d'une menagere , qui de- 
mandent Pespace et Paisance pour s'exercer, au 
lieu d'une profession productive qui aurait dimi- 
nue leur anxiete en doublant les ressources du 



DES FEMMES. 33 

La reaction s'est operee; apres la crise, l'etat 
de paix presque generate commence a causer la 
plenitude et produit l'accroissement demesure 
des populations que l'incurieagglomere toutessur 
les memes points; et Ton voit nos desirs et nos 
besoins se multiplier en raison inverse denosde- 
meures et de nos fortunes qui se morcellent et se 
retrecissent. Dans cet etat de choses, Tavenement 
aecelere de l'industrie conduisant ses cohortes 
et leurs chefs a la conquete du monde materiel, 
exige que l'education prevoyante elargisse son 
influence et multiplie ses ressorts pour contenir 
et regularise* l'elan nouveau des masses agissan- 
tes. 

Je ne crois pas qu'elle puisse nous laisser en 
dehors d'une sollicitude si imperieuse. 

Considerez notre position difficile au milieu 
des tentations du luxe et de Fopulence, lorsque 
de toutes parts les mots de progres et de bonheur, 
de satisfactions promises a tous les vceux, font 
resonner a nos oreilles leurs promesses falla- 
cieuses. Cherchez quelle est la prevision reelle- 
ment efficace qui nous protege et preside a nos 
destinees futures ! Le travail meme, qui devrait 
etre une sauve-garde pour les femmes qui ont 
des etats, est souvent pour elles une occasion de 
faiblesse ou de faute. 

Je ne sais quel degout et quel vertigc leur font 
dedaigner follement ce qu'il y a de beau et d'hp- 



34 Education 

norable dans les professions qu'clles remplissent. 
On dirait qu'clles ignorent la grace attrayante, 
le merite reel des ouvrages delicats qu'on se plait 
a voir naitre sous leurs doigts industrieux ; on 
deplore cette inconstance et cette aveugle impe- 
ritie qui compromettent si souvent leur avenir en 
leur faisant interrompre ou abandonner une con- 
dition honnete et assuree pour courir apresl'eelat 
passager d'une vie oisive qui les corrompt et les 
fait faillir. 

Le prestige de la parure et les delicates niol- 
lesses des habitudes les plus recherchees ne sont 
pas, chez les femmes sans fortune, la seule cause 
qui concourt a porter le trouble en elles-memes, 
et l'immoralite au sein de l'ordre social. 

En attachant une idee de superiorite a Peduca- 
tion litteraire, en faisant plus d'estime da style 
correct et de la parole erudite que de lapensee, 
on a propage la croyance a 1'inegalite intellec- 
tuelle des classes inferieures, sans songer que 
c'etait donner un stimulant a Torgueil, qui cher- 
che toujours a s'elever. 

Si au lieu de fletrir de la sorte les classes ou- 
vrieres par 1'inegalite intellectuelle des rangs, 
on eut proclame un egal respect, une merne con-, 
sideration pour tous les genres de travaux ne- 
cessaires a 1' existence de la societe ; si on eut 
reconnu l'egalile possible des professions, si dis- 
tincte de Tegalite cbimerique des fortunes, des 



DES FEMMES. 35 

rangs et ties costumes; si Ton eut inaugure l'ega- 
lite inoffensive de 1'intelligence , la seule que 
Dieu ait accordee a tous; qui pourrait calculer 
les effets salutaires d'une pensee aussi sage pour 
le perfectionnement des travaux humains, pour 
le bonheur des individus et pour le repos des 
societes ? Ne voit-on pas que chacun alors, appre- 
nant a estimer son etat, aspirerait bien moins a 
ees deplacements funestes d'une ambition turbu- 
lente? 

Cependant je crois vous l'avoir dit, Angelique ; 
je puis gemir sur la degeneration et Panarchie 
des idees morales, mais je ne me sens aucune 
mission pour crier anatheme aux erreurs du sie- 
cle, ni pour exciter son engouement. II faut ac- 
cepter les faits existants, puisque les nations en 
delire repetent , Dieu le veut ; puisque, entrai- 
nee par une force irresistible, la vie humaine 
semble desormais s'ecouler dans la tourmente des 
affaires et de 1'activite productrice, avec une Vi- 
tesse egale au mouvement precipite des astres; 
qu'il en soitainsi! neanmoins, nousne devons pas 
enlaidir ni voir sous des couleurs eclatantes les 
objets que la realite vient toujours assombrir. 

Je ne crois pas m'etre meprise en vous disant 
que le grand siecle du progres dont nous sommes 
si iieres, a son cote defavorable pour les femmes. 
Cettc tcrre promise d'egalite fictivc apreslaquel- 
le (juehjues-unes soupirent, n'arrivera que ti<>}> 



36 £Dl) CATION 

tot peut-etre pour leur tranquille securite d' au- 
trefois. Loin de leur offrir des oasis enchante- 
resses et des fetes incessantes, il faut qu'elles sa- 
ehent bien que I'avenir leur ouvre une arene 
remplie d'occupations plus attaehantes, et leur 
prepare des devoirs plus rigoureux que jamais. 

Dans cette attente d r egalite ou plutot d'inde- 
pendance vertueuse reservee a un grand nom- 
bre d'entre elles, et qui se presente comme une 
necessite louable qui les contraint a pourvoir 
elles-memes a leur avenir, je regarde Teducation 
professionnelle comme la providence des femmes, 
la veritable ecole de la sagesse et du bonheur. 

Une semblable institution ou Ton pourvoirait 
avec largesse au savoir indispensable a toutes les 
professions, une eommunaute industrielle de 
cette nature, ou Ton eleverait Tintelligence et la 
raison des jeunes filles en leur donnant la con- 
science d'une ceuvre importante k remplir, ou l'on 
habituerait les eleves a la pratique des vertus 
sociales par le respeet et l'egalite des professions, 
serait une pensee liberale et pieuse, vraiment di- 
gne d'un souverain patronage. 

Et qu*on se garde bien de dire qu'il n'y a rien 
qui puisse elever Tame dans les travaux indus- 
triels, rien qui Tavertisse de son importance et de 
sa dignite, faute d'une nouvelle methode que je 
vous exposerai plus lard ; Pouvriere et l'artiste 
mediocres se sont en effet trouvees reduites a un 



DES FEMMES. 37 

rule passif et mecanique, mais il est facile tie les 
el ever des tUgres inferieurs qu'occupe le metier 
jusqu'aux derres superieurs qui appartiennent a 
l'art. 

Montrez comment tine ouvriere, en cherchant 
le pourquoi, la sigesse tie chaque partie de ses 
ouvrages, peut pirvenir a admirer I'intelligence 
humaine dans Tceu/re materielle qui se faeonne 
cntre ses mains. AUrs chacun tie ses ouvrages, 
bien compris, soumisau calcul, devenu le resul- 
tat d'une longue reflexion, se presentera devant 
elle comine un miroir tu se reflechira la beaule 
de Tame humaine avec sx puissance et sa perfec- 
tion, tout aussi bien que Jans un ouvrage de li- 
terature, de morale ou de philosophic. 

Je vous le dirai sans cninte: de meme que 
pour celui qui sait l'y cherchu* et Ty contempler, 
Dieu apparait aussi bien dansla petite plante de 
la prairie, que dans le developptment incommen- 
surable des cieux ; de meme ^'esprit humain 
peut se contempler dans Fceuvre ittelligente d'un 
ouvrier habile, comme dans l'ord»>nnance mer- 
veilleuse d'une eclatante epopee. 

L'artisan qui connait son but et uii l'atteint 
par un ouvrage perlectionne dans toufes les par- 
ties qui concourent a 1'unite, est plus auiste que 
l'ouvrier en paroles, le litterateur expert , qui 
ne comprend pas la moralite, la poesie etl'iden- 
tite possible des intelligences dans l'unive:salite 
des aptitudes et des travaux. 



38 Education 

Quoi qu'en ait (lit le membre de Amiversite 
litteraire, chaque eleve de l'enseignement pro- 
fessionnel sentira toute la dignite de son etre 
dans 1'etude de Tetat qu'elle aura-hoisi, et cette 
culture epurera par la merae ses iastincts moraux 
si precieux a developper. Averse des-lors de la 
valeur et de la beaute de son iitelligence, elle se 
plaira dans la place ou la Piovidence l'appelle, 
parce qu'elle y trouvera h conscience de son 
egalite et les charmes d'uni poesie qui lui sera 
propre et personnelle. 

« La poesie revelee a t>utes les intelligences, » 
dit une de nos femmes llustres, « serai t un sens 
» de plus que tous Irs horames peut-etre sont 
* plus ou moins capaoles d'acquerir, et qui ren- 
» drait toutes les existences plus etendues, plus 
» nobles et plus haireuses. » 

Cette pensee nevous rappelle-t-elle pas, mon 
anrie, tin type clarmant de jeune fille chaste et 
naive, apparterant a la classe ouvriere, Gene- 
vieve, l'artisan', la fleuriste, dont les jours sem- 
blaient devoi* s'ecouler si calmes et si purs, 
lorsqu'Andr* , cet oisif lettre, ce reveur sans 
energie, e£ venu la faire sortir de la realite pour 
1'entrainerdans un tourbillon scientifique et Ten- 
lever si (ruellement a sa vocation bienheureuse? 

Pour^uoi l'auteur d'un livre si poetique n'a- 
t-il pa6 compris la moralite qui pouvait en 
jaillir? 



DES FEMMES. 39 

Je ne sais encore quelle sera la vocation de 
mes lilies; mais, en attendant qu'elles possedent 
toute la force de leur volonte, je veux ferme- 
ment pour elles, et ma raison me dit qu'il faut les 
preparer a un etat. Qu'elles soient destinees aux 
arts, a l'industrie, aux sciences, au commerce ou 
a l'enseignement , Teducation professionnelle li- 
bre et privee qu'elles commencent a recevoir 
s'exerce deja dans la vue noble d'un metier. Point 
de danger, point d'inconvenient pour l'educa- 
tion, meme la plus brillante, a faire acquerir de 
tres-bonne heure toute la promptitude , toute 
Tassurance qu'exige la pratique d'une profes- 
sion necessaire. 

S'occupent-elles de musique, de dessin, d'e- 
criture, d'arts mecaniques ou d'ouvrages manuels 
de toutes sortes, pour l'une ou Fautre de ces 
etudes qu'elles affectionnent et dans lesquelles 
on les voit persister; il faut, a tout prix, qu'elles 
s'accoutument a ne la considerer ui comme un 
jeu , ni comme un amusement. La prudence le 
veut ainsi; on ne redoute pas de cette maniere 
les vocations manquees qui abandonnent les ele- 
ves, au quart de leur chemin, dans le denue- 
ment d'une tentative infructueuse. 

Cependant, rien n'empeche que du metier 
nous arrivions a l'art, puisque c'est par lui que 
tout art commence, puisque tout enseignement 
ue peut pretendre qu'a l'initiation du metier, 



40 Education 

Fart et le talent viennent apres , c'est Fintelli- 
gence emancipee qui seule peut rend re un artiste 
vraiment digne de ce nom. 

Toute profession a son art et sa poesie, sa 
science et sa litterature; tout etat possede son 
utilite et sa gloire. 

Si notre epoque abonde en jeunes prodiges de 
savoir et d'habilete, ce n'est pas parce que les 
intelligences du xix e siecle sont superieures a 
celles qui Font precede, c'est parce qu'on com- 
mence a moins douter de la comprehension et de 
la force qui resident en toute intelligence d'enfant; 
c'est qu^on s'y prend presque aussi vite pour 
leur apprendre la langue de la musique, du des- 
sin et des autres arts , que pour leur inculquer 
la langue maternelle. D'apres ces idees , songez 
bien que ma fille, a quinze ans, doit etre en etat 
de vivre honorablement du fruit de son travail; 
il faut qu'elle sache assez bien le metier de sa 
profession pour se suffire a elle-meme. C'est 
done a la valeur intrinseque du metier que l'art 
doit s'appliquer d'abord; de meme , le metier 
doit immediatement se proposer d'atteindre les 
hauteurs de l'art : il faut posseder a cet age la 
souplesse de la memoire exercee, la dexterite du 
faire et de la pratique entiere des arts, de ma- . 
niere a se jouer deja de tous les genres et a ba- 
diner avec les difficultes; il faut avoir la con- 
science de sa valeur, et la foi dans sa propre 



DES FEMMES. 41 

volonte; etre elevee a comprendrel' unite du me- 
tier et de Tart, et posseder le sentiment de l'infini 
que renferme chaque profession qu'on embrasse. 

Si c'est la musique dont elle a fait choix, a 
cet age elle doit etre assez avaneee et assez sure 
d'elle-memedansla lecture ou l'agilite des doigts, 
dans tout le mecanisme de Fart, pour ne me lais- 
ser aucun regret, si par hasard un obstacle im- 
prevu ou le sommeil de sa volonte venait a 
suspendre les progres continus qui menent a 
Tart, puisque, a tout prendre, il lui resterait le 
metier. 

Au meme age dans la peinture toute eleve la- 
borieuse qui commence assez tot doit avoir la 
prestesse de la touche et Tagrement du coloris, 
doit pouvoir copier tous les genres avec une ce- 
lerite et une justesse assez remarquable, pour 
trouver une existence convenable dans Tetat de 
copiste; et notez bien que pour arriver aux ceu- 
vres d'imagination ou a Timitation de la nature, 
cette voie est la plus sure et la plus rationnelle; 
c'est celle qui conduit le plus vite a ces degres 
de Tart ou sont assises mesdames Deherain- 
Mirbel, Haudebourt et Gerard. Mais qu'on ne 
craigne pas surtout qu'une telle marche ne pro- 
duise que d'ignorans praticiens, puisqu'il faut 
au contraire demander a sa profession touts 
l' erudition qu'elle comporte, et acquerir pour 
son art toutes les coimaissances qui s'v ratta^ 

4 



42 Education 

chent. II en serait de merae de l'enseigncment, 
de l'industrie ou du commerce. 

Vous'voyez, mon amie, par ce qui precede, que 
l'education doit puiser une vie nouvelle dans les 
professions, dans la destinee active et intelligente 
des femmes qui les feraient marcher aupres de 
l'homme, le seconder et le suivre quand il s'eleve, 
au lieu de rester inertes et passives k ses cotes, 
comme la plante parasite qu'on voit fleurir aux 
depens du chene vigoureux qui Tab rite. 

C'est rinfluence prodigieuse d'une vocation 
decidee, d'une inclination qui porte toute la pen- 
see vers^un etat qu'on venere et qu'on professe 
comme un culte, qui doit evidemment faire pro- 
gresser la femme et l'ennoblir encore; car nul ne 
peut demontrer l'inferiorite de notre intelligence, 
nul ne peut aftirmer que, dans toutes les profes- 
sions qui sont compatibles avec notre organisation 
physique, nous ne puissions exceller aussi bien 
que celui qui se trouve constitue notre superieur 
et notre maitre. 

Si Ton m'objecte l'inutilite de faire entrer les 
professions dans l'education des femmes, si Ton 
trouve que les etudes speciales et les apprentis- 
sages y pourvoient chaque jour, sous la libre 
direction des families; je repondrai qu'il est une 
foule de professions, celles surtout qui sont les 
plus lucratives et les plus seduisantes, qui se de- 
terminent auhasard; je dirai qu'il est des choix 



DES FEMMES. 43 

funestes faits sans raison et satis prevoyance , 
des influences pernicieuses et des maitrises de- 
moralisantes; les professions s'acquierent, il est 
vrai ? mais les prejuges, la routine qui intimident 
les ferames et prodiguent leur temps, ne laissent 
poindre parmi elles que de rares celebrites. 

L'universite professionnelle des femmes devra 
suppleer a cette insuffisance, etpresentera de plus 
l'enseignement de la morale saine et fertile, l'a- 
limentation spirituelle appliquee au travail dans 
toutes ses phases et dans toutes ses creations. 

Je n'ignore pas qu'une telle institution ne sau- 
rait s'improviser en un jour, mais au moins qu'on 
ne rejette pas son urgence extreme, ni les idees 
qui lui viennent en aide; le moyen-age abritait 
les soeurs des ainees de famille contre Tisoiement 
et I' ennui ; il savait calmer les ames delaissees en 
donnant une pensee divine, un epoux celeste a 
tous les cceurs brises ; notre epoque, qui ne sait 
ni consoler les esprits chagrins, ni fixer les etres 
mobiles , ferait done progresscr encore la mo- 
rale et la dignite humaine en enseignant le res- 
pect et l'amour pour la condition ou Dieu nous 
a placees, et en offrant aux jeunes filles $ans for- 
tune un avenir certain par le don genereux de 
professions qui pourrait les clever en outre a la 
glorieuse dotation du talent. 

Jc termine la, mon amie, cette longue lettre 
dans laquclle vous trouvcrez,j'cspere, quelqucs 



44 Education 

principes de vie et de force nouvelles pour l'edu- 
cation privee et publique des professions. II me 
resterait a entrer plus profondement dans les de- 
tails d'un plan organique; c'est ce que j'essaierai 
de faire la prochaine fois en abordant les voca- 
tions. 

Adieu pour aujourd'hui, et affection pour tou= 
jours. 



DES FEMMES. 45 



e«c g » » 0(0^<»o»3<»»»6»&»e»gfr»»a»6»o » c » *»» 



LETTRE QUATRIEME. 



On dit avec verite qu'on peut juger du degre 
de civilisation d'un peuple, en voyant la part de 
liberte qu'ii accorde aux femmes ; cependant la 
civilisation et la liberte qui augmentent la lutte 
et le travail , ont vu plus d'une fois le progres 
s'arreter ou devier de sa route. L'ere de l'indus- 
trie en adoucissant les moeurs violentes et la ru- 
desse primitive de Thornine, en le delivrant de 
ces chefs avides et sanguinaires qui elevaient 
au premier rang Tart de defendre sa vie ou d'ar- 
racher celle de ses semblables, fut un progres 
pour lui ; mais la femme ne fut jamais dans cette 
alternative : plus le souverain maitre menait une 
vie aventureuse et guerriere, plus l'existence de 
son esclave bien-aimee s'ecoulait tranquille et 
doucement occupee. 

Notre epoque, en faisant du mariage une trans- 
action commerciale ou l'argcnt Temporte sur In 



46 EDUCATION 

beaute de Fame et du corps, n'est pas a cet egard 

en progres sur le passe, qui attachait tant de 

prix aux vertus domestiques des femmes, et qui 

ne recherchait souvent dans une jeune fille que 

la douceur, la modestie et toutes les qualites 

personnelles. 

Vous rappelez-vous, mon amie, dans le livre 
sublime de la plus haute antiquite, ces gracienx 
tableaux de la vie de famille au temps des pa- 
triarches ? ne sont-ils pas Tim age symholique 
de la vocation du menage dans son expression 
la plus naive et la plus touchante ? Transportez- 
vous dans la Mesopotamie, aupres d'une fontaine 
ombragee de palmiers. Cette jeune fille pleitie de 
pudeur, vierge tres-belle, que vous voyez debout 
au milieu de ses compagnes, occupee com me 
elles a puiser de l'eau, c'est Rebecca, la fiancee 
promise a Isaac par le Dieu d'Israel. 

Je ne sais quel attrait indicible ajoutent a la 
beaute ces occupations de femme si simples et 
si communes. Ce n'est point au signe de la gran- 
deur et de l'elegance que la fille de Bathuel, 
portant un vase sur 1'epaule, est reconnue par 
Eliezer qui lui demande a boire. Si vous cher- 
chez pourquoi Tintendant d'Abraham vient de 
placer entre les mains de Rebecca ces pendants 
d'oreilles et ces bracelets ? pourquoi ces vases 
d'or qu'il etale a ses pieds ? si vous vous etonnez 
de l'eutcndre enumerer avcc complaisance les 



DES 1 EMMES. tf 

troupeaux et les richesses d'Abraham, sans s'in- 
f'ormer des tresors et des paturages de la petite- 
iille de Nachor; vous en conclurez qu'en ces 
temps, les coutumes du mariage diff'eraient gran- 
dement des notres. 

« La chose est decidee de l'Eternel, repond 
» Laban a Eliezer, Rebecca est a toi , emmene-la 
a et pars; qu'elle soit la fern me du fils de ton 
» maitre : ainsi l'a dit le Tres-Haut. » Alors Ten- 
voye se prosterna sur la terre, adora le Sei- 
gneur; puis, il conduisit la jeune fille sans dot 
au pays de Chanaan, dans la maison de son 
epoux. 

?sous sommes bien loin de la Genese et des 
mceurs patriarchates ; il ne faut point s' abuser 
sur les choses dont la valeur est en decroissance. 
Nos filles peuvent etre belles et bonnes, se pre- 
senter avec grace, s'exprimer avec aisance et 
modestie; on peut reconnaitre leur merite d'e- 
conomie etd'ordre interieur; mais possederaient- 
elles la noble simplicite, les vertus et les talents 
domesticities de TS T ausicaa, sauraient-elles con- 
duire un menage avec cette activite sage et pre- 
voyante cjui faisait l'admiration de uos a'ieux, si 
la dot qui les attend est nulle ou trop modique, 
craignez pour elles l'isolement et l'abandon. 

Le xix e siecle , avide et calculateur, regarde 
aucontraire un etat positif comme un capital, 
un douaire certain, dont il cvalue riulerct tl 
suppute le produit net et determine. 



48 Education 

Quand les idees ne menent plus au cloitre, et 
que du reste les arceaux multiplies de ces saintes 
demeures sont pour la plupart reduits en pous- 
siere, que doit devenir une jeune personne sans 
fortune, sans profession et sans appui dans le 
monde? C'est ce qu'on peut opposer de plus 
irresistible a ceux qui croient encore que les at- 
tributions naturelles de la femme consistent dans 
la direction du menage. 

Si, d'un autre cote, on se plaignait de voir 
enlever les femmes aux soins et aux devoirs de 
ia maternite, je repliquerai que la encore je ne 
songe pas plus a provoquer qu'a interdire. En 
voyant les tendances et les besoms qui se font 
jour, il n'y a qu'a subir la necessite qui nous 
eclaire et nous domine. Apres tout, Teducation 
professionnelle n'enleverait pas aux femmes la 
science du menage, elles pourraient puiser au 
eontraire dans les deux specialites du commerce 
et de Fadministration rurale les connaissances 
fcheoriques et pratiques relatives a cette fonc- 
tion. 

11 faut remarquer en outre que la fondation 
des salles d'asile , la multiplicite des ecoles et 
des institutions ordinaires, 1'instruction plus re- 
pandue qui tend a transformer la domesticite 
en profession, et Findustrie mercantile si inge- 
nieuse a pourvoir a tous les menus details de la 
vie usuelle, ont considerablement diminue la 



DES FEMMES. 49 

charge, autrefois si essentielle et si compliquce, 
des maitresses de maison. Toutes ces considera- 
tions nous obligent a convenir que les qualites 
naguere si vantees, si importantes de l'economie 
domestique ne doivent plus tenir le premier 
rang dans l'education des femmes. 

Une ouvriere habile, alerle et Jaborieuse, qui 
se perfectionne dans sa profession, se fait l'ar- 
bitre de son sort, s'eleve et arrive a l'aisance 
en devenant Torgueil et le soutien de ses vieux 
parents, n'offre-t-elle pas une destinee aussi 
belle et aussi morale que celle de la jeune per- 
sonne inoccupee qui languit et s'annule et que 
la mollesse et la fierte arretent on font rougir a 
la pensee d'un etat? 

Une artiste qui acquiert un talent, qui arrive 
a la renommee et a la fortune, et jette un reflet 
de gloire et de bonheur sur sa fa mi He entiere, 
sont-ce la des positions de femmes que l'educa- 
tion doive dedaigner on condamner a Toubli? 
Je pense, an contraire, qu'elle ne saurait mieux 
faire que de lourner toute sa sollicitude et toute 
sa science vers le cote ou se trouvent le mouve- 
ment et l'emulation. 

Depuis longtemps, les femmes attentives et 
studieuses, sans ostentation, s'aident elles-me- 
mes et se montrent vraiment digues d'etre aiclees 
du Ciel et des institutions des homines. 

Assez d'instruction , de luxe et d'apparat, as- 

5 



50 EDUCATION 

sez de ressources existent pour Tediication des 
hautes classes ; les fllles sans fortune ont droit a 
rinstruction qui leur procure a toutes un etat. 
Pour moi, inon amie, quand j'eleve la voix en 
faveur de la classe laborieuse a laquelle j 1 ap- 
partiens, quand je lui parle de courage et de 
perseverance, je sens que je m'adresse a qui 
prend plaisir et a besoin de m'ecouter; je sais 
que le bruit de la mode et des salons, 1'eeho af- 
faire qui repete tant d 'opinions discordantes , ne 
rediront pas une de mes pensees; c'est un mal 
dont je m'afflige, puisqu'il peut retarder le suc- 
ces des idees que je crois utiles. Mais qu'im- 
porte ? tout ce que j'ai a vous apprendre sur 
Fcducation des femnies , concernera toujours 
cette portion de la societe qui merite tant d'in- 
teret et de devouement. 

Vous jugeiez , Angelique , par Timportance 
que j'attaclie a Teducation professionnelle, si 
je dois remplir avec empressement la promesse 
que je vous fis dans ma derniere lettre de vous 
entretenir des vocations. 

Selon les definitions employees par I' usage, 
la vocation serait un mouvement interieur, un 
appel secret qui nous avertit du genre de vie 
auquel Dieu nous predestine. On a dit qu'elie 
etait un vceu de la nature auquel il ne fall ait 
jamais resister ; on a etc plus loin , en affirmant 
qiril y avail des vocations teliement persistantes 



DES FEMMES. 51 

el souveraines , qu'elles commandaient d'auto- 
rite, se faisaient jour en depit des obstacles et 
se placaient d'elles - memes au rang supreme 
qui leur etait assigne par le destin. Coinme en 
ces matieres le champ de l'observation ne peut 
etre clos pour personne , j'essaierai quelques 
reflexions a ce sujet , en ajoutant aux idees 
acquises ainsi que d'autres y ajouteront apres 
moi. 

Lorsqu'on etudie la chaine mysterieuse des 
revolutions sociales , on decouvre un dualisme 
regulier qui perpetue aussi son mouvement 
dans l'ordre des vocations qu'on voit toujours 
privilegiees ou nefastes. Le dogme du bien et 
du mal cherchant a reproduire partout son ana- 
logic a voulu voir des natures celestes a cote 
de celles qui se trainent peniblement sur la 
terre; il a etabli dans le monde de Fintelligence 
une echelle immense , au sommet de laquelle il 
a place les creatures divines , les archanges de 
genie et de savoir , et a ses pieds des vocations 
rampantes, des ames serviles vouees pour tou- 
jours a l'abaissement et a l'ignorance. Dans le 
monde de la matiere , il a dit a ceux-ci : Vous 
serez appeles en naissant a la richesse ou a la 
misere ; a ceux-la : Vous recevrez le don mer- 
veilleux de la beaute ou le stigmate repoussant 
de la laideur. 

Sans l'apparition du christianisme , le reseat! 



52 Education 

de fer des demarcations sociales existerait en- 
core dans toute sa rigueur et le regne abrutis- 
sant des castes comprimerait toujours les peu- 
ples de sa fatalite revoltante. En appelant tous 
les etres a la conquete du bonheur eternel, en 
proclamant Pegalite sublime de Tame et pro- 
mettant de delier dans le ciel ce qui serait delie 
ici-bas , le christianisme a brise les chaines des 
vocations fletrissantes, il a efface la tache ori- 
ginelle des etats. 

L'intelligence du dernier esclave, elevee a la 
hauteur de ces ames stoiciennes , de ces esprits 
d'elite dissemines dans les ecoles philosophiques 
des temps antiques , est une renovation prodi- 
gieuse dont nous sommes encore loin d'avoir 
epuise toutes les consequences. Declarer que 
tout homme possede la faculte de se connaitre , 
la volonte de se vaincre lui-meme, et poser cette 
clause pour condition du salut de tous, fat une 
prime d'emulation, un vebicule admirable of- 
fer t a rhumanite. 

Lorsqu'on a pu dire que Pintelligence , ce 
rayon qui derive du foyer resplendissant de la Ju- 
miere divine elle-meme , etait formee d'une es- 
sence aussi pure, quand elle avait pour enveloppe 
le corps le plus chetif , quand elle animait la 
plus humble existence, que lorsqu'elle brillait 
au front de rindividualite la pjlus belle et la plus 
haut placee par le destin , on a du prevoir 






DES FEMMES. 53 

que le regne des capacites ne tarderait pas 
a se faire jour et la vie laborieuse h s'ennoblir. 

Bientot, en effet, on vit s'elargir la sphere des 
professions qui se distribuerent librement entre 
tous ; bientot des vocations nouvelles, creees par 
le travail et l'intelligence, ne tarderent pas a 
marcher de pair avec les vocations hereditaires 
et de droit divin , et il fat demontre qu'on n'a- 
vait qu'a propager 1 'education pour multiplier 
le nombre des elus dans les sommites sociales. 

Sans remonter plus loin que la grande refor- 
me politique operee en France , les vceux de PE- 
glise 5 les devoirs de la famille et la direction du 
menage, etaient les seules occupations de femmes 
que 1'education prit soin de cultiver; les autres 
professions etaient obscures ou vouees au me- 
pris , et les arts eux-memes entaches de servitu- 
de. L'education generale, procedant jusqu'alors 
en vue d'une organisation morale ou religieuse 
exclusive, avait du necessairement, tout en s'occu- 
pant des vocations , borner leur etendue ; mais 
a present que la carriere monastique et les tra- 
vaux d'interieur ne sont plus les seules fonctions 
attribuees aux femmes , maintenant qu'il s'agit 
de les preparer en grande par tie pour la con- 
dition directe et determinee des professions 
d'art ou d'industrie de toutes sortes, on concoit 
(jue les vocations doivent joucr nil role impor- 
tant et nouveau dans la fixation des aptitudes 



u Education 

et la direction des choix; peut-etre alors est-ce 
le moment d' examiner avec scrupule ce qu'on 
entend exactement par vocation, de preciser 
mieux cette disposition qui serait innee en nous, 
cet appel d'en-haut qu'on s'appreterait a suivre 
comme la voix des oracles. Ne serail-il pas pru- 
dent de rechercher si Ton doit etablir que les 
vocations, par elles-memes si changeantes, si va- 
lues et si difficiles a constater, si les vocations 
qui se montrent quelquefois si tard , qui s'arre- 
tent souvent si vite, doivent etre la regie unique 
et la mesure la plus certaine pour nous guider 
dans la decision des etats ? Pour vous dire toute 
ma pensee , je n'apercois, dans les vocations , 
qu'un gout dominant, qui presque toujours 
prend naissance dans le milieu qui nous entoure ; 
je ne trouve rien de fatal , rien d'irrevocable 
dans ces penchants qui nous plaisent et nous atti- 
rent, pas plus que dans ces repugnances qui 
nous eloignent ; je n'y peux rien voir que l'educa- 
tion ou la volontc ne puissent convertir a leur 
gre en peines ou en plaisirs. Qu'on prenne toutes 
les organisations avant 1'age des inegalites con- 
ventionnelles de la societe, il sera bien aise de 
constater chez tons les etres des desirs , des aver- 
sions et des sympathies semblables. Devant tant 
de vocations incertaines, tardives ou somnolen- 
tes , faut-ii que l'education se lasse ou desespere? 
faut-il qu'ellc s'epuisc a contempler les nuances 



DES FEMMES. 55 

infinies de la mobilite capricieuse ? Croyez-vows 
aussi qu'elle doive s'eprendre d' admiration, s'in- 
terrompre et s'effacer devant ees vocations de 
choixqui ne demandent, dit-on, qu'une faible cul- 
ture pour monter dansles hautes regions ? J'affir- 
ine au contraire que tout individu ayant ime des- 
tinee activearemplirencemonde, l'educationqui 
ne peutmesurer l'elevation a laquelle chacun pent 
atteindre , ne doit prendre sur elle de prononcer 
aucune exclusion ; elleappartient a tons sans ex- 
ception, elle ne saurait refuser a personneses le- 
cons ni son assistance, qui sent aussi necessaires 
a l'alimentation des intelligences que lanourrifure 
materielle est indispensable a la vie du corps. 

Aujourd'hui que les royaumes de la terre, la 
gloire et les distinctions de tout genre sont a la 
veille d'echoir aux capacites acquises , a la va- 
leur intellectuelle du talent et du sa voir , jamais 
on n'a tant parle de vocations natives, de genie et 
de dispositions naturelles; s'il fallait en croire 
les Solons et les Lyeurgues de l'epoque actuelle , 
la tache de 1'education serait bien simple etbien 
facile, il ne s'agirait plus d'elever les ames en 
leur faisant conquerir la force morale qui con- 
duit a la vertu ; toute intelligence irait se placer 
d'elle-meine dans la case correspondant aux zo- 
nes tracees par la science nouvelle; les peuptes 
n'auraient plus qu'a marcher et a s'aligner an 
cordeau; ainsi 1c doigt de Dieu aurait efface en 



56 EDUCATION 

vain les demarcations superieures qui residaient 
autrefois dans la force physique et la beaute cor- 
porelle, pour nous faire obeir encore au hasard 
de la naissance , qui ne connait que l'arbitraire 
dans ses reprobations ou ses faveurs. Ainsi s'an- 
nulerait le libre arbitre et s'arreterait l'essor de 
la volonte devant les vocations privilegiees ba- 
sees sur Texcellence des fibres intellectuelles. 

On devine aisement combien serait eminente 
alors la tribu de predilection qui jugerait les 
organisations en delimitant et tracant d'une ma- 
niere ineffacable les lineaments regulateurs de 
chaque destinee. 

Qu'on admette, si Ton veut, les classifications 
et les corporations de tous les ordres; mais qu'on 
n'affirme pas qu'il y a pour chaque individu 
dans chaque generation des vocations ecrites et 
marquees par la nature organique meme. 

Les revolutions changeantes qui s'operent ? 
les mouvements eontraires dans les destinees 
d'un meme peuple et d'une meme individuality, 
nous montrent 1'influence incessante des insti- 
tutions humaines sur les habitudes et sur les 
mcenrs. I/education se presente toujours a nous 
maitresse des vocations et pliant les intelligences 
au genre devie, aux opinions, aux gouts di- 
vers que les temps ou la necessite reclament. 

Les vocations individuelles peuvent obeir a 
la voix du devoir ou de la volonte, comme celles 



DES FEMMES. 31 

des peuples flechissent devant la parole des le- 
gislateurs ou le cotrmandement des despotes. 
Etait-ce pour suivre la vocation conforme a Tor- 
gauisation morale et physique des femmes , 
qu'on soumettait les jeunes filles de Sparte a la 
meme education que les hommes, en leur ap- 
prenant a coiirir dans le stade et a lancer le 
disque et le javelot en presence des rois, des ma- 
gistrats et meme des jeunes gens qu'eiles exci- 
taient a la gloire tantot par des eloges et tantot 
par des railleries PC'etait une condition bien cruel- 
le et qui semble bien eloignee du sentiment ma- 
ternel que nous connaissons a present, que celle 
qui appelait les femmes spartiates a la vocation 
de mere; Tune d'elles, a qui Ton vient appren- 
dre que son iils a ete tue sans quitter son rang, 
repond : « Qu'on 1'enterre, et qu'on mette son 
frere a sa place. » 

Le moyen-age, selon son genie et ses besoins, 
avait inspire la vocation surnaturelle du celibat 
au tiers des populations qu'il refoulait dans les 
cloitres. Demandez a un musulman ce qu'il 
pense de la vocation des femmes, il vous re- 
pondra que Mahomet les appelle a la reclusion 
et au repos. 

L'education n'a point a rechercher les droits 
nouvcaux de la femme , ni les vocations sociales 
a venir que la Providence fera predominer en 
rile ; sa mission est de freonder dans les gene- 



58 EDUCATION 

rations qu'elle inskruit et qu'elle eleve, toute la 
force intellectuelle et morale des facultes dont 
le Createur leur a prodigue les germes. 

M. de Bonald definit l'homme une intelli- 
gence servie par des organes. Je crois que Pe- 
ducation doit prefcrer la definition dn fonda- 
teur de TEnseignement universe! , qui appelle 
Phomme ou la fern me une volonte servie par une 
intelligence. Avec M. de Bonald, on pourrait 
croire aux vocations fatales qui devraient naitre 
de l'inegalite materielle des organes; avec la pen- 
see de M. Jacotot , plus religieuse et plus vaste , 
les vocations sont libres comme la volonte. 

II n'y a qu'une seule et meme intelligence 
obeissant a to us les gomts et a tons les desirs ; 
mais la conscience est juge du choix, la raison 
fait mouvoir la volonte et se soumet a la mo- 
rale qui trace le devoir. 

En fait d'education , il ne s'agit pas d'en ap- 
peler a la nature ; le naturel de Fenfance, comme 
celui de 1'age viril , est presque toujours l'in- 
souciance et la paresse; s'il fallait consulter tous 
les caprices et toute la mobilite des enfants, s'il 
fallait faire consister Fetude dans l'attrait et le 
plaisir, les resultats moraux et intellectuels se- 
raientgrandement compromis. On parle souvent 
de ces natures si heureusement douees , de ces 
organisations a part qui reussissent a toutes 
chOvSes sans fixite et sans peine ; on cite des in- 



DES FEMMES. 59 

telligences qui font en une heure ce qui coute 
a tant d'autres des journees entieres d'attention 
et de travail. 

Ce sont de ces phenix que je suis encore a 
rencontrer; j'ai toujours vu 1'enfant qui ne s'ap- 
plique pas ne reussir en aucune chose : l'eleve 
inattentive et frivole se lasse aussitot du nou- 
veau devoir, du modele ou du morceau de inu- 
sique qu'on renouvelle a son gre, que des etudes 
durables qu'on lui impose ; la petite fille de- 
truit aussi vite le jouet qui l'amuse que le livre 
ennuyeux qui lui apprend a lire. C'est parce 
qu'il y a tant d'efforts a faire et tant de con- 
traintes a subir, qu'on attache un si grand prix 
a la possession du talent et de la science ; il n'y 
a pas de vocation , si lisiblement ecrite qu'elle 
soit dans les astres, qui ne coute des soupirs et 
des iarmes. Si la raison et ia fortitude n'etaient 
pas la sans cesse pour raffermir les vocations 
qui hesitent et qui chancellent , on ne verrait 
que depouilles flottantes et frocs abandonnes sur 
les orties et sur les ronces qui bordent les sen- 
tiers conduisant aux professions. 

Lorsqu'on examine l'ordre actuel des etats 
auxquels se livrent les femmes , on y remarque 
quatre divisions distinctes : la vocation reli- 
gieuse , Tenseignement , les beaux-arts et l'in- 
dustrie. 

La i)rofessiou monastique desfemmcs , qui se 



60 Education 

trouve si anciennement constitute, se perpetue 
sous les ailes protectrices de l'Eglise. 

L'enseignement general n'existe pas comme 
institution gouvernementale pour les femmes ; 
c'est une des specialises les plus urgentes qui 
reclame une universite et une ecole noruiale. 

Un seul enseignement professionnel est orga- 
nise pour elles , c'est celui du Conservatoire de 
musique; on ne concoit pas que Penseignement 
special du dessin et de la peinture soit encore 
a fonder en leur faveur; on voit s'elever des 
palais somptueux, des ecoles splendides desti- 
nees a l'etude des beaux-arts, et personne ne 
songe a demander pourquoi tant de femmes, qui 
trouvent dans la pratique du dessin et de la 
peinture une profession lucrative, n 7 ont aucun 
droit a occuper une partie de ces amphitheatres 
et de ces loges ? pourquoi elles ne profitent pas 
des ressources bienfaisantes que ces ecoles pro- 
diguent aux jeunes gens qui les frequentent ? 
Si la fondation du Conservatoire a ete d'une ne- 
cessity plus pressante, il faut convenir qu'elle a 
presente des difficultes bien autrement grandes, 
devant lesquelles n'a cependant pas recule le ge- 
nie organisateur de l'empire; mais chacune de 
ces specialites demande un chapitre a part, que 
je me propose de vous soumettre. 

Je n'ai point oublie, moti amie, que je vous 
promettais dans ma derniere lettre d'entrer dans 



DES FEMMES. 61 

les details cPun plan organique au sujet do l'en- 
seignement des professions industrielles. Ffallea 
pas croire que j'aie forme le dessein de vous 
tracer les proportions materielles d'une telle in- 
stitution; a moins de faire un ouvrage ideal, de 
concevoir un projet de fantaisie , sans applica- 
tion possible, on ne peut creer une conception de 
qnelque valeur, si l'on ne possede des dimen- 
sions, des documents et des donnees certaines en 
rapport avec la realisation. Ce qu'on peut faire 
de plus utile, c'est d'apporter quelques materiaux 
a la pensee qui concevra l'ensemble d'un tel edi- 
fice, je desire principalement faire sentir aujour- 
d'hui la possibility d'une telle creation. 

Les communautes religieuses du passe, celles 
de nos jours et la maison royale de Saint-Denis, 
si sagement administrees par les femmes, snffi- 
ront pour montrer qu'elles possedent les qualites 
d'ordre et d'economie, le caractere et la gravite 
essentiels a la tenue des grands etablissements; le 
degre d'instruction ou sont arrivees maintenant 
les femmes, permet de trouver en elles toutes 
les connaissances que 1'enseignement des specia- 
lity industrielles necessite. Ne pourrait-on pas 
regarder aussi comme une base importante , un 
element pratique fecond en resultats, ce principe 
admis dans les apprentissages qui procure un 
salaire a l'apprentie apres deux ou trois ans de 
temps et de travail donnes gratuitement a Tac- 



62 Education 

quisition cl'un etat. Cette maniere serieuse et 
reelle d'envisager les etudes professionnelles se- 
rait tout-a-fait distincle de l'enseignement des 
theories et de ('application suivie jusqu'a ce jour, 
oujamais on n'a su mettre entre les mains des ele- 
ves les moyens de gagner immediatement leur 
vie au sortir des bancs de 1'ecole. 

II y aurait plus d'un avantage a faire ainsi de 
l'enseignement tout-a-fait pratique, a produire 
et a fabriquer reellement com me il arrive chaque 
jour dans tous les ateliers industriels ou Ton 
utilise meme les premiers essais des plus jeunes 
commencantes. Cette methode donnerait une im- 
portance salutaire a tous les travaux qu'on 
pourrait confier a 1'entreprise et faciliterait l'e- 
conomie des materiaux de toute nature; elle don- 
nerait aux etudes un aspect d'occupations serieu- 
ses et productives, et accoutumerait les eleves de 
l'industrie a la celerite et a l'exactitude. Une 
telle mesure les forcerait a un caractere atten- 
tif et applique bien distinct des penchants frivoles 
et dissipes des eleves de l'enseignement general, 
qui ont tant de propension a prendre les habitu- 
des insouciantes etlegeres des enfantsde laclasse 
riche. 

On peut presumer que la fondation d'un ensei- 
gnement aussi pen conn a cjue celui des profes- 
sions industrielles doit presenter de nombreuses 
difficultes. Ne seraii-il pas important de fixer la 



DES FBMMEfc 63 

hierarchie des professions, de savoir ou s'arrete 
tel etat, ou commence tei autre? II est aussi des 
professions plus seduisantes et plus avantageuses 
les unes que les autres; lorsqu'on verrait le 
plus grand nombre des eleves se decider pour 
les memes etats, en depit des vocations soi-di- 
sant naturelies, dans quel sens faudrait-il agir ? 
Ne serait-il pas urgent d'etablir des gradations 
d'etat, de ne permettre de monter dans certai- 
nes professions pretendues superieures qu'apres 
avoir excelie dans celles qui sont le moins re- 
cherehees ? 

II faudrait bien se garder aussi de suivre l'or- 
dre adopte dans la fabrication actuelle des ateliers 
ordinaires, ou Ton fractionne la confection des 
ouv rages en une multitude de parties differentes ; 
il est facile de \oir qu'en subdivisant ainsi un art 
ou un metier pour arriver a la plus grande cele- 
rite possible, on emploie un procede d'exploita- 
tion, un expedient de fortune cree par Tadresse 
inventive des entrepreneurs, dont la coutume est 
anti-progressive et ne pent former que des pra- 
ticiens aveugles et routiniers. 

C'est pourquoi il me semblerait sage d'admet- 
tre dans un enseignement aussi social que celui 
des professions le principe de Temancipation in- 
tellectueile. Avec cette pensee des intelligences 
independantes inspiree a toutes les volontes, la 
perfection n'a plusde limites,ettout indivitlu \)vut 



64 EDUCATION 

acquerir une originalite distincte, s'il sait se defter 
de la mobilite qui, au lieu de conceutrer son at- 
tention entiere sur un seul point dont les rap- 
ports sont infinis , s'egare d'un objet a un autre en 
croyant trouver sanscesse des apercus nouveaux. 

Les femmesadonneesaux professions ont encore 
plus besoin d'emancipation que les hommes pour 
ne pas etre maitrisees et rapetissees dans lenr in- 
telligence; pourquoi se laisseraient-elles imposer 
des fractions d'etat, lorsqu'elles sont capables 
d'en concevoir et d'en pratiquer 1'ensemble? 
C'est la croyance a la volonte qu'il importe prin- 
cipalement d'enseigner a toutes; lorsqu'onxsait 
vouloir, point d'etat mediocre, point de position 
si obscure et si penible qu'on ne puisse ameliorer 
et benir. 

On croirait qu'en s'abandonnant a Pattraction 
d'une vocation seduisante, 1'intelligence devrait 
doubler la vitesse de ses acquisitions ; souvent 
il en arrive ainsi ; mais la force du vouloir vient 
briser cette regie en multipliant les exceptions ; 
de meme qu'on voit une mere s'eprendre d'af- 
fection plus vive pour 1' enfant disgracieux etma- 
ladif qui augmente sa peine, de meme on voit 
1'eleve se mettre a cultiver avec amour l'etude 
ingrate et deplaisante quilui coute tant d'efforfs 
et de veilles. 

II y a un danger reel a faire consister dans les 
vocations naissantes l'esperance de Fenseigne- 



DES FEMMES. 65 

merit et a les prendre pour signe precurseur des 
grandes ceuvres; car, en definitive, toute vocation 
n'a de valeur que lorsqu'elle vient constater, vers 
le milieu d'une carriere, les merites et le bonheur 
d'une renommee noblement acquise. 

Mais je sens qu'il faut terminer cette epitre : 
je regrette d'avoir bien peu dit sur un sujet d'une 
telle etendue; un autre jour, je vous entretien- 
drai des vocations enseignantes. 

Au revoir, bonne amie! quand ma plume s'ar- 
rete, je suis deux fois heureuse, parce que j'ai 
rempli ma tache et que ma pensee plus libre re- 
vient tout entiere a vous. 



<»s#§^**^&^»^M§*« 



66 Education 



e&^««^^&9^e<S>««&0^#e#9^i^<@>e<^^<^«@<&o^e<&^^^#e«ajS>c<9>a$>96e 



LETTRE CINQUIEME. 



S'il est vrai, mon amie, quel que soit Pcclat 
des dispositions ou la voix secrete qui nous 
appelle au choix des professions, qu'il faille y 
repondre sans cesse par une perseverance sou- 
tenue et en montrant un grand empire sur soi- 
meme; s'il est vrai qu'il n'y ait point de science 
ou de genie quine demande des etudes continues^ 
point de haute moralite qui ne se forme sans 
habitudes peniblement contractees et a la longue; 
convenez que ce qui importe le plus dans toute 
vocation, c'est Pelevation de l*ame et la force de 
la raison. II y aura toujours des etats tellement 
penibles et ingrats a remplir, que sans une grace 
particuliere d'en-haut ou une injonction expresse 
de la societe meme, un grand nombre resterait 
en souffrance; cela seul ferait presumer que la 
loi du sacrifice doit durer autant que le monde. 

Le passe d'oii nous sommes sortis, et cc qui 



DES FEMMES. (37 

nous en reste de sain et de moral apres tant de 
vicissitudes subversives, est enoore tout empreint 
de ce caractere civilisateur et religieux. Pour 
constituer une vocation, la moral ite dirigeante 
des derniers siecles, en consultant les gouts et les 
aptitudes de ses elus, savait les rectifier et les 
conduire; elle s'appliquait a fortifier la faiblesse 
en insistant sur le devoir; on la voyait designer 
du doigt l'ceuvre a remplir ; et comme Dieu et la 
felicite future etaient le but et la fin de toutes 
choses, si rebelle et opiniatre que fut une incli- 
nation contraire, plus d'une volonte inflexible 
linissait par s'assouplir devant la terreur du 
chatiment eternel. 

Ces reflexions me sont suggerees, en ce mo- 
ment ou je porte ma pensee vers la vocation de 
1'enseignement, par la resignation qu'nne telle 
profession demande. Je ne connais pas une con- 
dition qui ait plus besoin de chercher au-dessus 
du monde la recompense de ses merites. Les 
epoques organiques les plus morales avaient 
bien juge cette mission de patience et d'abnegu- 
tion en la confiant au sacerdoce. 

De nos jours cette carriere a pris une exten- 
sion remarquable parrai les femmes ; elle est 
encore une fonction grave et relevce qui ncces- 
site la reunion bien rare du devouement le plus 
entier avec la science la plus solide et la plus 
ctendue; mais a delaut de direction supreme la 



68 £du cation 

plupart des femmes qui se vouent a cet etat ne 
paraissent pas soupconner les qualites qu'il exige. 
Les lines, femmes du monde, habiles settlement 
a u tiliser leurs relations de famille , etayees par de 
hauts patronages, s'enviennentl'exploitercomme 
une industrie;les antres, appartenant a la classe 
paavre, choisissent cette vocation sans instruc- 
tion prealable com me un pis-aller, ou un expe- 
dient pour echapper a la misere la plus pressante. 
Dans le nombre des etats qui conviennent aux 
femmes, c'est en vain cependant qu'on en cher- 
cherait un plus propre a la culture et a l'eleva- 
tion de 1'intelligence, ou un plus digne d'inspirer la 
ferveur d'un noble zele. Toute ame ardente,aux 
aspirations genereuses, ne peut trouver dans au- 
cune autre situation une occasion plus heureuse 
de faire le bien. 

Si vous cherchez une fortune grande et rapide, 
ce n'est pas a la carriere de l'enseignement qu'il 
faut la demander; maissi, bien penetree du de- 
sir d'etre utile a vos semblables, vous ambitionnez 
la tache glorieuse de donner votre vie en exem- 
ple, si vous trouvez le bonheur dans la satis- 
faction de vous-meme , dans les gouts simples et 
les habitudes serieuses, vous pouvez entrer en 
cette voie, malgre la foule des concurrentes qui 
s'y pressent; on trouve si rarement parmi elles 
les qualites essentielles a cette vocation, que 
toutcs celles qui sent assez suves d'elles-memes 



DES FEMMES. 60 

pour commander auxautresseront to u jours bien 
placees clans une profession qui leur accordera, 
quoi qu'on dise, un sort modeste et honorable. 

Je crois que pour se former une idee nette 
des devoirs de l'enseignement, il faut les exami- 
ner distinctement dans l'enseignement public et 
dans l'enseignement prive. Quoique la charge 
d'instilutrice particuliere porte avec elle ses ri- 
gucurs et ses exigences, bien qu'elle demande 
une vertu et une instruction peu communes , on 
pent la remplir cependant avec moins de diffi- 
cukes que celle d'institutrice de l'enseignement 
general. La direction d'une ou deux enfants n'est 
pas comparable a celle d'une classe entiere. Telle 
qui conserve assez d'autorite, assez de presence 
d'esprit pour se faire obeir d'une seule eleve, n'a 
souvent ni le ^courage ni l'habilete de comman- 
der a un plus grand nombre. 

Les obligations morales et la pratique de l'en- 
seignement public sont plus difficiles et plus 
graves qu'on ne l'imagine; on se fait institu trice 
parce que cette profession parait etre le prolon- 
gement naturel de Tinstruction ordinaire, et je 
suis encore a me demander comment une si 
grande quantite de femmes s'acquittent aussi 
passablement d'un emploi dont ellcs se chargcnt 
avec taut de legerete. 

II n'existe en effet pour les femmes aucun 
etablissement special ou elles puissent trouver 



^o Education 

la direction supreme et les theories d'enseigne- 
merit qui leur sont indispensables ; l'instruction 
s'est repandue , s'est fortifiee d'une maniere 
etonnante parmi les femmes, et ce mouvement 
s'est opere presque seul a 1 'imitation des hommes 
et sous Inspiration des families. Le progres des 
institutions publiqnes dirigees par elles en a ete 
plutot le resultat que la cause, tant sont puis- 
sants et enracines les prejuges et l'ignorance qui 
les arretent. Et peut-etre que les institutrices 
timides et superficielles comme le sont la plus 
grande partie des femmes, resteront longtemps 
encore etrangeres et indifferentes aux brillants 
travaux d'enseignement que les hommes accom- 
plissent chaque jour , ainsi qu'a Tuniversalite 
et a la hardiesse des points de vue nouveaux 
qu'ils embrasseni. 

La marque la plus certaine de la nullite mo- 
rale et scientifique des femmes qui gouvernent 
les grandes maisons d'enseignement, c'est leur 
assiduite a frequenter le monde et 1'eloignement 
qu'elles ressentent pour les etudes et pour les 
classes, leur repugnance a s'occuper des details 
penibles et fastidieux, pour gouter dans la resi- 
dence habitneile de leur interieur toutes les 
douceurs d'une vie de luxe et d'aisance. Une 
preuve evidente d'incapacite et de vanite mal- 
heureuse dans les jeunes mairresses, c'est le 
mepris qu'elles font paraitre pour Tinst ruction 



DES FEMMKS. 71 

des commencantes, le dedain et l'insouciance 
avec lesquels elles s'assujettissent a donncr leurs 
soins aux tres-jeunes enfants. C'est pi tie de les 
voirnegligeretmeconnaitreune etude aussi belle, 
et des observations aussi profi tables que celles 
des premieres lueurs de la pen see naive de ces 
interessants petits etres, pour convoiter l'ensei- 
gnement des classes superieures. On meconnait 
ainsi trop souvent u-ne profession si noble et si 
utile, parce qu'on la remplit avec hauteur et 
qu'on se croit humilie des minuties et de la 
trivialite des services multiplies qu'elle reclame. 
Quant a l'enseignement prive , vous savez 
comment on s'y comporte* Lorsqu'une jeune 
personne se presente pour etre gouvernante des 
enfants d'une grande maison , bien rarement elle 
a mesure la tache qu'elle desire entreprendre; 
a cet egard elle est bien loin de partager les 
scrupules de l'immortel precepteur d'Emile; la 
grande preoccupation des deux parties contrac- 
tantes, c'est la negociation des appointements; 
le systeme a suivre et les chances de reussite 
sont ce qui occupe le moins. Du reste, on sa- 
critie volontiers Finstruction et les merites essen- 
tiels d'une excellente maitresse a la necessite 
d'un mediocre talent musical; on choisit de pre- 
ference un mentor artiste en consideration de 
Tagilite des doigts. Le piano est devenu le prin- 
cipal , {'education n'est plus (pic i'acccs^oirc : 



72 Education 

telle est la frivolite avec laquelle se traite la 
plupart du temps une si serieuse affaire; et qu'on 
s'etonne apres cela du trouble et de l'affaisse- 
ment des choses morales au sein des families ! 
Un gouverneur ! disait Rousseau , ah ! quelle 
ame sublime! En verite pour faire un homme, il 
faut etre pere ou plus qu'un homme soi-meme; 
et pour faire une femme , ajouterai-je , il n'y a 
qu'une mere ! l'enseignement maternel peut seul 
agir avec Pintensite dezeleetde tendresseetsur- 
tout avec la latitude que 1' education comporte. 
Une mere, institutrice de ses enfants, leur 
communique une vie de plus; elle ajoute la ma- 
ternite de Intelligence a celle de la nature; rien 
ne peut egaler Porgueil et le bonheur d'une mere 
qui peut se flatter d'avoir contribue seule a l'e- 
ducation complete de sa fille : je ne fais point un 
crime a celles quise debarrassent d'une charge si 
belle que toutes pourraientremplir, mais qu'elles 
ne s'en prennent qu'a elles-memes si les pro- 
gres et le caractere de leurs enfants ne repondent 
point a leur attente. Quoi ! votre patience et votre 
mansuetude se sont lassees d'un premier essai ! 
votre humeur s'est aigrie tout d'abord; vous 
avez entrevu combien il y avait a faire , et, pour 
un modique salaire, vous demandez toutes ces 
choses a une etrangere qui a tant d'autres enfants 
aconduire; vous croyez qu'il suffit d'un diplome 
pour operer toutes ces merveilles! mais, je vou& 



DES FEMMES. 73 

Je repete encore, la vocation de Penseignement 
prive consiste surtout dans le devouement et la 
moralite. C'est assez vous dire qu'elle est acces- 
sible aux meres qui sont pauvres comme a celles 
que la fortune a comblees de ses dons. Le succes 
des etudes n'exige pas la science etles talents que 
vous croyez; Montaigne peut venir a mon aide, 
pour vous convaincre sur ce point : « On ne 
» cesse, dit-il, de criailler a nos aureilles comme 
» qui verserait dansun entonnoir, et notre charge, 
» ce n'est que de redire ce qu'on nous a diet; je 
» voudroy qu'il corrigeast cettepartie, et que, de 
» belle arrivee, selon la partie de Tame qu'il a en 
» main, ileommencast a la mettre sur lamonstre, 
» lui faisant gouter les choses , les choisir et dis- 
» cerner d'elle-meme, quelquefois lui ouvrant 
» le chemin, quelquefois le lui laissant ouvrir; je 
» ne veux pas qu'il invente et parle seul ^ je veux 
» qu'il ecoute son disciple parler a son tour. » 

Ainsi doit se voiler Terudition , et s'effacer le 
savoir devant la patience. On a ajoute depuis 
Montaigne qu'il etait bien plus facile a tout en- 
seigneur de faire parade de ce qu'il sait, que d'o- 
bliger l'eleve a parler, et de verifier piece a piece 
s'il a regarde et repose son attention sur Tobjet 
de son etude. Au surplus, avec Touvrage mate- 
riel, le resume, ou le modele special pour tout 
art et pour toute science sur lequel se rencontre 
Pattention du disciple et du maitre, cette verifi- 

7 



74 Education 

cation est facile a faire , pourvu que 1'exactitude 
et le courage n'abandonnent jamais le dernier. 
Parce qu'il ne s'agit pas de s' assurer si l'eleve a 
bien vu et bien fait , mais s'il a regarde et cherche 
a bien faire. La repetition, le travail et Tinge- 
nieuse nature feront tout le reste sans vous. 

Si nous voyons, par tout ce qui precede, quels 
managements il faut apporter a 1'ceuvre d'une 
education isolee , que penserons-nous alors d'une 
directrice de pensionnat qui a une si grande 
charge d'ames , et de la maitresse qui conduit une 
classe nombreuse? 

Je vondrais, mon amie , pouvoir ne rien omet- 
tre dela difficulte et des miseres de l'enseignement 
public a l'epoque actuelle; de tout temps, il a 
fallu, je pense, dans cette condition des institu- 
trices , dans cette opposition de l'age mur et rai- 
sonnable, sans cesse aux prises avecTactivite folic 
et bouillante de la jeunesse, une dose d'amenite 
et de Constance qui fait la gloire et la saintete de 
cette profession ; mais la consolation la plus douce 
et le secours le plus efficace qu'elle puisse rece- 
voir, c'est a coup sur d'etre appreciee et secondee 
par la confiance absolue des parents; c'est de ne 
faire qu'un avec la morale fixe et vivace qui se 
pratique avec ferveur et enthousiasme dans Tin- 
terieur des families; car alors Penseignement n T a 
plus cette aprete, ni ces ecueils decourageants qu'il 
presente aux epoques de doute et de desordre 



DES FEMMES. 75 

moral, pareils a ceux qui se rencontrent an temps 
ou nous vivons, puisqu'il devient une fonction 
religieuse, respectee, possedant une hierarchie 
venerable qui rend l'autorite facile et Fobeissance 
attrayante. 

Cependant rentrainementillusoire de l'egalite, 
la necessite , la force des choses qui pousse le 
monde vers un but ignore de tous, ont propage 
1'instruction des fenunes outre mesure; les mai- 
sons seculieres d'education se sont multipliers 
partout, le professorat est devenu pour elles une 
fonction sociale des plus importantes. Toute 
institutrice qui persevere dans cette voie pendant 
un grand nombre d'annees , et qui , sans autre 
assistance que son travail, obtient la confiance, 
donne,il me semble, des preuves d'un merite 
que la societe ne devrait pas laisser sans recom- 
pense. 

II ne faut pas oublier que cette profession, qui 
forme une reunion si considerable de femmes 
eminemment utiles, est remplie, a Tinstruction 
pres peut-etre, plus dignement par elles que par 
les hommes. On ne peut se defendre a ce propos 
de remarquer qu'il est etrange de voir qu'une 
agregation si vaste , la plus sage et la plus eclai- 
ree de notre sexe, celle qui montre 1'exemple 
d'un desinteressement et d'un travail si opiniatre 
pendant la vigueur de l'age, ne soit pas un corps 
constitue, jouissant de ses droits et pouvant 



76 Education 

offrir k tous les membres qui la composent, une 
retraite convenable et sure dans la vieillesse. 

Du reste, ce n'est pas la seule chose qu'il y au- 
rait a faire pour les progres de Fenseignement; la 
distance qui separe le professorat des femmes de 
oelui deshommes, est une preuve dela situation 
arrieree dans laquelle nous nous trouvons; mais 
il faut convenir que les obstacles sont graves; on 
ne peut aborder cette matiere sans arriver a des 
innovations qui effraient, et pour lesquelles on 
n'est nullement prepare. 

La premiere de toutes, et qui permettrait des 
ameliorations actuellement impossibles, ce seraifc 
de ne confier Fenseignement des femmes qu'a des 
femmes elles-memes ; le jour oil cette reforme 
s'effectuera sera la preuve d'une superiority 
reelle dans leur instruction; des ce moment , 
tout deviendra possible. Ne croyez pas toutefois 
que je blame entierement Fintervention des 
hommes dans Fenseignement. Pour longtemps 
encore, je la crois indispensable, et meme, sous 
quelques rapports, je la trouve excellente. Ce 
n'est pas que je veuille contester tous les dangers 
qu'il peut y avoir a exposer, dans Fenseignement 
privesurtout,ies jeunes filles au prestige que peut 
exercer sur elles la parole eloquented'un maitre; 
mais en toute chose, la logique est exclusive et 
conduit trop loin ; si je desire voir les professeurs 
s'eloigner des institutions, c'est principalementl 



DES FEMMES. 77 

afin que les femmes se mettent plus vite en de- 
nieure de remplir parfaitement elles-memes 
toutes les chaires d'enseignement que les hommes 
ont illustrees avant elles; il s'agit presque du 
salut des institutions dans cette question du pro- 
gres des maitresses. Puis, il faut bien le dire 
aussi, les professeurs hors de ligne, ceux qui ont 
su se faire une renommee dans 1'enseignement 
des femmes, sont tres-rares : les uns font de la 
science de luxe dont l'aristocratie peut seule 
approcher ; les autres, par leur presence perio- 
dique dans les institutions, jettent sur elles un 
eclat qui leur est funeste des qu'il vient a man- 
quer. La destinee d'une maison ne doit pas re- 
poser sur la valeur d'un nom etranger. Mais de 
tels hommes sont pour les insti tutrices des modeles 
precieux qu'elles doivent s'efforcer d'imiter. 

Cependant, mon amie, la femme habile qui 
gouverne etstimuleune classe entiere, serait-elle 
capable d'inspirer a la jeunesse l'enthousiasme 
des sentiments religieux d'humanite, aurait-elle 
Feloquence erudite qui, dans un cours, epure le 
gout en donnant un essor a Intelligence, sans 
imposer sa pensee comme la seule vraie et inge- 
nieuse ; possederait-elle ce grand art de reveiller 
les idees qui sommeillent, de les faire naitre, de 
les conserver et d'en enseigner l'emploi , tout cet 
ensemble ne constituerait a lui seul qu'une des 
branches de 1'enseignement. Parler une heure ou 



78 Education 

deux sur un art ou sur une science, captiver un 
jeune auditoire par la lucidite des demonstra- 
tions, ne prouve rien pour la serenite de Fame et 
Pexcellenee du caractere qu'il faut avoir pour 
passer sa vie entiere a regenter des enfants. 

A cet egard, la plus humble maitresse d'ecole 
de village qui conserve son calme et sa douce 
patience au milieu des rustiques marmots qui 
Tentourent, est aussi meritante aux yeux de la 
societe et de Dieu lui-meme que la directrice de 
grande maison, zelee et infatigable, qui a les yeux 
sans cesse attentifs et le coeur toujours indulgent 
pour la grande famille que la Providence a confiee 
a sa garde. II faut avoir exerce cet etat pour se 
faire une idee des tortures sans cesse renaissantes 
qu'il inflige a celles qui le remplissent avec con- 
science. C'est le spectacle incessant de la paix et 
du repos luttant avec la fougue et l'emportement. 
Comme la roche impassible resiste a la vague 
agitee et bruyante qui se renouvelle sans relache, 
Finstitutricedoit opposer le courage et la douceur 
a l'etourderie et a la mobilite qui jamais ne s'arre- 
tent. Si la nature n'a pas doue toute jeune fille qui 
se destine a cette carriere d'une sante robuste, elle 
peut renoncer d'avance a ce genre d'occupation. 
parce que ses forces ne sauraient y suffire. C'est 
par un noviciat lentement prepare, une pratique 
assidue qu'il faudrait s'assurer de ses progres et de 
sa reussite; jeTaimerais jeune, gracieuse etd ; une 



DES FEMMES. 79 

haute stature, afin qu'elle put imposer et plaire 
aux enfants qu'elle est appelee a conduire : il faut 
a cette fonction difQcile toute la vigueur et l'ani- 
mation que la jeunesse comporte; car, en notre 
malheureux temps qui a perdu la tradition sainte 
du respect des vieillards, tout est precoce et s'use 
vite ; la jeunesse n'obeit J}ien qu'ala jeunesse. Ge- 
pendant, avant trente ans, une femme qui a pris a 
cceur son avenir et bien utilise son temps, doit 
avoir un nom dans l'enseignement ; mais savez- 
vous a quelle condition? c'est en faisant une com- 
plete abnegation d'elle-meme et en prenant a 
tache l'avancement et la perfection des enfants 
etrangers qu'elle eleve; c'est en les comblant de 
caresses, en les adoptant comme les siens propres, 
qu'elle pourra se parer du beau titre d'institu- 
trice. Je me suis plainte souvent moi-meme de 
Texistence mediocre et decourageante des sous- 
maitresses ; mais on doit reconnaitre en bonne 
justice que la plupart ne peuvent attribuer qu'a 
elles seules l'inferiorite et la triste position qu'elles 
conservent. 

Pour ne pas languir dans la mediocrite, il faut 
donner a toute profession un temps d'attente et 
d'essais, faire l'epreuve d'une volonte profonde et 
apprendre a obeir avant de commander; 1c moin- 
dregeste, l'acte le plus indifferent d'une jeuneper- 
sonne qui s'essaie a remplir l'emploi de maitrc^se 
devient un indice de vocation. Tout revele une 



so Education 

ame honnete et droite qui a le desir de meriter 
les applaudissements et la consideration de son 
entourage. 

II ne suffit pas d' avoir les gouts quelque pen 
litteraires, de posseder un mince talent d' agree- 
ment, de se presenter avec les manieres aisees et 
le langage facile de la feaute societe ; il ne suffit 
pas d'avoir Pexterieur severe et une haute idee 
de soi, de posseder cette exactitude qui s'acquitte 
a peu pres bien du devoir impose sans jamais 
aller au-dela; ce sont des qualites tiedes et vul- 
gaires dont l'enseignement se contente faute de 
mieux. Mais le pire, et ce qui se rencontre par 
malheur le plus ordinairement dans tous les rangs 
de cette fonction, c'est d'y apporter les distrac- 
tions et la frivolite des manieres du monde. 

En general, quand vous voyez une jeune pos- 
tulate porter un livre en classe et se complaire 
dans une lecture a la mode, prendre plaisir a 
Felegante broderie ou a la tapisserie gracieuse 
qu'elle se destine a elle-meme, au milieu de ces 
enfants bruyants et inattentifs dont la petulance 
excessive exige une surveillance de toutes les 
minutes, c'est d'un facheux augure. Si vous voyez 
une sous-maitresse trop occupee de sa toilette et 
de ses agrements personnels, impatiente et fiere 
dans son commandement; si une autre se montre 
lente et negligee dans ses ajustements, trop fami- 
liere avec les eleves, si vous surprenez en elle, 



DES FEMMES. 81 

lorsque la cloche se fait entendre, la meme joie 
que manifeste tine enfant qui se debarrasse de 
l'etude comme d'un fardeau, c'est qu'elles sont 
indignes de la confiance qu'on leur accorde; 
toutes celles, en un mot, qui ne vous paraissent 
pas blessees a la vue du desordre, sans cesse em- 
pressees et attentives a faire dominer partout ou 
elles se trouvent le sentiment de ce qui est juste 
et bien, vous pouvez certifier avec assurance 
qu'elles ne sont pas encore appelees a l'enseigne- 
ment. 

On reconnait la marque de la vocation franche 
et invariable d'une jeune novice, a son amour 
pour les enfants; vous la verrez sans cesse en- 
touree et recherchee de ses eleves; le zele et le 
devoir de son etat ne lui laissent qu'une seule 
pensee, c'est la perfection et la sollicitude du 
troupeau confie a sa surveillance. Pieuse et mo- 
deste, toujours exacte et avant l'heure a tous les 
exercices, bonne et confiante avec les enfants 
qu'elle dirige, elle fait servir toutes choses a leur 
instruction : c'est une lecon vivante, une mere 
adoree des petites filies et un modele seduisant 
que les grandes imitent par instinct et par plaisir. 

Son ame, sensible au moindre mecontentement 
des parents, s'identifie aux craintes et aux succes 
de la maison dont elle obtient Festime et la con- 
fiance sans reserve. 

Au grand attrait qu'elle trouve dans les lee- 



82 Education 

tures serieuses et substantielles , vous pouvez 
deviner la digne aspirante a l'art de l'enseigne- 
ment. On peut la juger rien qu'a la simple biblio- 
theque qu'elle rassemble du fruit de son travail; 
elle saura choisir de preference les Peres de l'e- 
glise et Fenelon pour modeles de raison elo- 
quente et de sagesse douce et persuasive; Bossuet 
et Massillon, pour etudier chez eux le talent de 
la parole, 1'elegance de la forme et la chaleur de 
Fexpression ; elle aura place au premier rang les 
moralistes principaux et toutes les femmes qui 
ont ecrit sur Feducation, puis viendrontles phi- 
losophes qui se sont occupes de methodes. Voila 
les auteurs essentiels dont elle s'attache a com- 
prendre et a posseder Tesprit, les compagnons 
muets de sa pensee et de ses veilles. La litterature 
ne vient qu'apres ; c'est pour elle une distraction, 
une etude facile ; tout ce qui est langue, histoire et 
sciences classiques doit repasser sans cesse entre 
ses mains ; et si a tant de qualites precieuses elle 
ajoute le sentiment profond des arts et possede un 
talent reel, soyez sure qu'elle n'en fera paraitre 
aucune affectation, et que sa plus grande joie 
sera toil jours de se montrer a toute heure prete 
a verser dans le cceur et Tintelligence des autres 
tous les tresors de bonte, de grace et de savoir 
qu'elle aura recueillis pour elle avec tant de la- 
beur. 

Apres une telle application, une volonte si 



DES FEMMES. 83 

ferme de parvenir et d.e progresser dans une voie 
si droitc et si louable, dites, raon amie, si une 
jeune fille doit avoir quelque chose a redouter 
pour son avenir? dites, si elle ne rencontrera pas 
en tous lieux des egards et des marques sinceres 
d'affection etd'interet? Elle se gardera bien de 
desesperer, si, par hasard, une ingratitude folle 
et ignare venait a meconnaitre de si nobles ser- 
vices; elle saura bien que ce ne pourra jamais 
etre qu'une exception revoltante dont la duree 
sera passagere. 

Croyez-vous, Angelique, qu'une existence 
ainsi consacree au bonheur des autres soit une 
position ordinaire qu'on recherche comme tant 
d'autres pour l'eclat et la richesse qu'elles procu- 
rent? Croyez-vous que les degouts et les entra- 
ves qu'elle presente, les rares perfections qu'elle 
exige n'effraieraient pas la plupart de celles qui la 
desirent, si un tel devouement n'etait inspire et 
obtenu par la force de la pensee religieuse, si Ton 
ne se sentait maintenu et protege par une chaine 
sainte, un rayon qui remonte a Dieu en ratta- 
chant la vie individuelle a celle de l'humanite? 

A voir l'austerite de conduite et l'abnega- 
tion extreme que je demande pour cette voca- 
tion, on pensera peut-etre que 1'enseignement 
des communautcs religieuses de femmes serait 
celui qui se trouve le plus conforme a ma ma- 
niere de voir. Si c'etait la conclusion a tirer de 



84 Education 

tout ce que je viens d'exposer a ce sujet, c'est 
qu'alors, malgre moi, ma parole aurait donne une 
interpretation contraire a ma pensee. 

Je venere et j'apprecie les institutions reli- 
ligieuses dans leurs traditions antiques, dans leur 
force morale et persistante. Je les regarde comme 
un asile mysterieux pour la priere, un refuge 
consolatetir pour quelques ames isolees et souf- 
frantes, que la foi ravive encore; mais, comme 
instruction publique, je ne les crois utiles et 
bonnes qu'a s'alimenter et a se constituer elles- 
memes. On doit reconnaitre la stabilite , le prin- 
cipe d'ordre et dissociation qui font leur puis- 
sance et leur securite; on doit admirer l'esprit 
d'autorite, l'inspiration et Funite qui les diri- 
gent; mais, au temps present, renseignement 
qu'on y donne et les vocations speciales qui s'y 
declarent, sont tellement en disaccord avec la 
civilisation actuelle , qu'on se voit force de les 
considerer comme etrangeres au mouvement des 
choses vivantes. II me semble qu'elles sont, sous 
certains rapports , bien plus impropres que les 
maisons seculieres a propager la science et les 
vertus sociales dont Fepoque a si grand besoin. 
Comment concevoir, en effet, Fenseignement dans 
tout ce qui touche aujourd'hui aux investigations 
ardentes des intelligences, a la direction essen= 
tielle des qualites du coeur, aux relations du 
monde, a tous les rapports de mceurs et d'inte- 



DES FEMMES. 85 

ret, a tous les liens de famille, a l'independance 
et a la diversite des idees et des situations qui 
composent la vie reelle et animee d'une societe 
comme la notre, lorsqu'une barriere infranchis- 
sable vous en separe? comment donner des con- 
seils pratiques, signaler des ecueils lorsqu'on ne 
possede qu'une sagesse negative , quand on ne 
peut offrir que des precautions preventives a 
Fusage des riches, ou procurer des connaissances 
bornees et obscures destinees aux generations 
eteintes ? De quelle maniere les arts divins et 
la science attrayante feconderaient-ils encore les 
pieuses meditations du cloitre ? Comment les cor- 
porations enseignantes pourraient-elles, comme 
a leur origine, en conserver la flamme, en re- 
pandre autour d'elles l'enthousiasme sacre , lors- 
qu'elles se glorifient de leur ignorance et de 
leur etroitesse , quand les statutset lesmethodes 
immuabies qui les gouvernent,Jeur commandent 
l'effroi du progres? Oh! non, ce n'est pas dans 
l'etat ou se trouvent en ce moment les commu- 
nautes religieuses, que l'education des femmes 
doit leur appartenir. Les coutumes y sont trop 
pueriles et trop minutieuses; le temps y est trop 
largement depense en pratiques exterieures et 
surannees qui rendentl'espiit inactif, enformules 
decrepites , qui assoupissent le sentiment reli- 
gieux plutot que de le reveiller ou de le faire 
surgir ;la vocation de l'enseignement est tenue de 



86 fiDUCATION 

chercher ailleurs sa force et sa lumiere ; ce n'est 

pas non plus dans les methodes et les prejuges 

ignorants des institutions actuelles que reside son 

avenir. 

C'est a la puissance individuelle, a Pinitiative 
libre et spontanee de Intelligence agissant sur 
elle-meme, a Pimpulsion si morale et si active 
des meres qu'elle devra son essor plutot qu'aux 
lecons vulgaires et a la lenteur des procedes 
usites dans les ecoles publiques. 

Frappe par la marche ascendante d'une raison 
et d'une maturite jusqu'alors inconnues a la ma- 
jorite des femmes , chacun se mele de seconder 
ienr zele en posant toutefois des limites a leur 
instruction : en voyant cette avidite de connaitre 
et cet elan qui les anime, tout le monde s'em- 
presse de travailler a leur elevation et a leur 
bonheur; mais a condition de mesurer la somme 
d'idees compatibles avec leur complexion soi- 
disant naturelle. 

L'education publique et celle des communau- 
tes religieuses ne sont pas plus pres l'une que 
Tautre de croire que les femmes ont une valeur 
intellectuelle egale a. celle des hommes ; elles ne 
savent offrir que des principes retrecis aux ne- 
cessites de Pepoque, aux besoins nouveaux de 
Pindustrie qui exigent pour le bien-etre materiel 
des femmes et pour leur moralite une instruction 
etendue et positive. 



DES FEMMES. 87 

Mais l'enseignement maternel n'est pas con- 
traint de se soumettre a ces doctrines arrierees 
qui barrent la route et endorment les facultes ; 
aussi je suis convaincue que c'est par lui que 
1'instruction des femmes produira les fruits les 
plus murs et les plus eclatants, parce que rien 
ne 1'entrave et que bien mieux qu'un autre , il 
sail employer les heures. Vous verrez que par- 
tout ou une femme se montrera avec distinction, 
occupera une position sociale ou il faudra payer 
de sa personne et donner des preuves d'une su- 
periorite de talent egale a celle des hommes, 
c'est plutot a Penseignement prive qu'il faudra 
l'attribuer. 

Ainsi, 1'instruction publique des femmes se 
montrera pendant longtemps encore faible et 
oiseuse. En attendant qu'elle s'assimile l'esprit 
dissociation et la force morale dirigeante des 
communautes religieuses, en attendant qu'elle 
se regenere par les idees et la science nouvelles 
et qu'elle retrouve toute sa vigueur dans la 
puissance intellectuelle des femmes, sans laquelle 
on ne peut rien fonder de vaste en education , 
la suprematie appartiendra aux etudes indepen- 
dantes, a la volonte supreme guidee par l'in- 
fluence des meres, jusqu'au jour ou la societe, ne 
pouvant plus se maintenir sans etre raffermie 
par un lien moral unitaire, s'harmonisera encore 
avec la religion et rendra l'enseignement au 
sacerdoce. 



88 Education 



e&e&^e®t#t&e&^^^ti&9&#&^t&o&c&ci<&^*G^6<&^tttt**eGe***9*4*** 



LETTRE SIXIEME. 



VOCATION BES FEMMES ARTISTES, 



Vous ne m'avez pas dit, Angelique, si vous 
etiez un peu remise de l'incursion prosaique 
que je vous fis faire 1' autre jour dans l'interieur 
de nos classes noircies par 1'encre et la poussiere ; 
vous ne m'avez pas donne votre avis sur les re- 
marques severes et les remontrances rigides que 
je me suis permises envers nos jeunes maitresses 
livrees a l'insouciance ou portees a 1'aigreur. Au 
surplus , vous n'en etes pas quitte a tout jamais, 
nous reviendrons plus d'une fois encore visiter 
nos tristes gymnases , veritables prisons de Pen- 
fance, dans lesquels se retournent enmille pos- 
tures les esclaves qu'on y apprivoise a la gene , 



DES FEMMES. S$ 

et ou blanchissent avant i'age les pauvres geo- 
liers qui sont forces de leur mesurer l'air et la 
liberte. Mais aujourd'hui je vais vous rendre 
plus joyeuse , je viens a vous avec un langage 
moins austere et d'un pas plus agile, pour vous 
parler de la vocation des femmes artistes, de cette 
vocation divine, au sentiment des Grecs ; car 
vous vous rappelez l'ingenieuse fiction qu'ils en 
ont faite dans le my the gracieux des neuf sceurs , 
ces belles et chastes filles auxquelles ils ont 
donne le nom de Muses, synoiryme de pure me- 
lodic, qui semble nous dire que les femmes 
sont appelees a conserver et a dessei vir le culte 
harmonieux des arts. 

II est inutile en effet de demontrer que la 
fern me dont les gouts sont si delicats et si poeti- 
ques, Fame si sensible et si suave, le caractere 
si sympathique a l'idealite sainte de charite uni- 
verselle, puisse atteindre aux sommites de Tart. 
Prise au point de vue philosophique et civilisa- 
teur, la vocation artiste fait partie du domaine 
de i'education publique , parce que l'art, reli- 
gieux ou profane, est toujours l'enseignement le 
plus eleve et le plus attrayant que les peuples 
puissent recevoir. Je ne vois en consequence 
aucun danger a ce que cette profession brillantc 
soit accessible a un plus grand nombre de fem- 
mes , je suis certaine que telle que je la concois. 
elle doit servir a leur moralite et a leur elevation 

8 



so Education 

sociale, en contribuant a leur bien-etre materiel; 
cette esperance est d'autant mieux fondee , que 
les femmes ne se livrent plus isolement, par es- 
sais ou par vanite pretentieuse, corame autrefois, 
a l'etude lente et difficile des arts, puisqu'ils sont 
a present pour elles une carriere serieuse et 
productive , dans laquelle on les voit en foule 
se complaire et reussir. 

La litterature et la poesie, par exemple, ne sont- 
elles pas devenues trop familieres aux ferames de 
notre epoque, pour que Jean- Jacques osat encore 
ecrire une sentence de reprobation pareille a 
celle-ci : «. Toute filie lettree restera fille toute sa 
» vie , quand il n'y aura que des hommes senses 
» sur la terre? » Personne ne s'avise de croire a 
cette heure que le talent d'ecrivain, de poete, 
exclut chez une femme les devoirs d^epouse et 
les sentiments de mere , ainsi que l'esprit d'ordre 
et les convenances du monde. Le type de Far- 
tiste neglige , du genie inspire , distrait et dedai- 
gneux , qui s'isole avec affectation de la societe , 
qui devient intraitable et repoussant a force d'o- 
riginalite , s'est perdu par le ridicule dans Tun et 
Tautre sexe. Les souveraines du talent et de la 
science ressemblent a toutes les autres; ce sont 
aujourd'hui des femmes simples et naturelles 
comme toutes les femmes bien elevees. Toutefois, 
je me garderai bien de convier a la poesie la 
jeune fdle sans fortune, qui a besoin de se creer 






DES FEMMES. 01 

d'elle-meme une existence douce et indepen- 
dante; c'est un etat de luxe et de haute position 
sociale, qui est a peine profitable a quelques ce- 
lebrites parrai les homraes. JVeanmoins, je dirai 
a toute vocation poetique, qui ne pent resister k 
ce qu'on appelle le feu sacre, au penchant des- 
potique et passionne qui la pousse dans une 
voie si hasardeuse, qu'il lui faudrait avoir toutes 
les cordes a sa lyre; les poesies sombres on lege- 
res , les meditations harmonieuses qui n'emprun- 
tent pas les ailes de la melodie, qui ne se melent 
pas aux accents du drame ou de la scene comi- 
que, pour se produire a la lumiere , et recueillir 
au loin des couronnes, sont des ceuvres sans 
profit et sans gloire , de friroles passe-temps que 
Tindifference dedaigne, ou que Toubli devore en 
un jour. Je dirai aussi aux femmes prosateurs , 
poetes, romanciers, dont les yeux d' Argus pent-- 
trent les replis caches de nos douleurs intimes, 
que Dieu et leur conscience sont les seuls juges 
de la mission qu'elles s'arrogent; mais il leur ap- 
partient de se rendre l'arbitre de leur habile te 
dans l'art. Si elles veulent mesurer la portee de 
leur vol, el roidir leur courage devant les obsta- 
cles, rien n'empeche qu'elles n'arrivent au j)re- 
mier rang des ecrivains. 

On voit chaque jour un grand nombre d'essais 
en ce genre devenir infructueux, pour n'avoir 
pas ete assez murement reflechis. Fasse le Ciei 



m Education 

que les femmes n'abandonnent jamais la chastete 
dans leurs ecrits, ni la delicatesse exquise des 
convenances, merae au plus fort de leur imagi- 
nation poetique ! Rien ne les force a faire usage 
de ces remedes imprudents qui rouvrent des 
blessures presque cicatrisees, et les rendent 
mortelles en croyant les guerir. Mais dans Tal- 
ternative de dire trop ou trop peu sur ce point, 
dans l'impuissance de voiler l'abime ou tant d'es- 
prits en vertige se precipitent par engouement, 
je me borne a conseiller le progres de Tart ; c'est 
la beaute de la forme et la purete du style qui 
me preoccupent le plus. J'aime a croire, dans ma 
sollicitude pour la vocation des femmes auteurs , 
que la nourriture vivifiante des hautes etudes, 
la sensibilite, le ferme vouloir qui produisent la 
majeste du talent et la richesse de la pensee 9 
sont inseparables de la noblesse du caractere, et 
ne peuvent habiter que dans les ames entourees 
d'une aureole sainte de dignite et de candeur. 
Apres tout, ce ne sont pas seulement des bras 
de femmes, qui faiblissent en voulant presenter 
au monde le miroir de ses vices et de sa laideur* 
Entre tant de feuilles ephemeres qui se consu- 
ment a recueillir des myriades de pensees, le 
temps seul connait celle qui fait germer une ve- 
rite salutaire, mais ii ne tient qu'a vous de sa- 
voir par les productions anciennes , dont la valeur 
a survecu a 1'alliage impur des idees creuses et 



DES FEMMES. 93 

fugitives de mode ou de circonstance , quelles 
sont les qualites d'execution qui assurent a un 
ouvrage d'art le suffrage imposant de la poste- 
rity. J'ai cru les voir souvent dans l'expression 
naive des sensations vivement eprouvees , dans la 
peinture richement coloree des passions ou des 
sentiments communs a tous les homines et a tou- 
tes les epoques; j'ai cru les reconnaitre dans les 
oeuvres ou sont traces a grands traits Pimage et 
les mouvements invariables de l'esprit et du 
cceur, aussi bien dans les nuances dedicates et les 
males contours de la beaute morale , que dans 
la recherche de l'infini, et l'imitation de la na- 
ture et de son unite. 

L'art est le meme dans tous les ouvrages hu- 
mains; je n'aurai que des conseils a peu pres 
semblables pour toutes les vocations artistes que 
je me propose d'examiner. Ce n'est pas moi qui 
m'aviserai de prononcer une parole de blame et 
d'anatheme contre les femmes qui consacrent 
aujourd'hui avec modestie et Constance leurs 
facultes entieres au service de l'art, mais j'in- 
sisterai toujours sur 1' extreme severite des etu- 
des; je ne cesserai d'exhorter a 1'enthousiasme 
et au courage toutejeune fille qui se destine a 
cette vocation. Je chercherai a faire naitre en elle 
le sentiment d'egalite qui peut l'elever au niveau 
des plus grands maitres, parce qu'un talent su- 
perieur, quelle que soit la multitude des rivalites 



94 Education 

qui lui barrent la route , se fraie toujours un pas- 
sage, et se prepare une position brillante. Sans 
cela, malgre Fattrait et les avantages materiels 
de la vocation des arts sur les autres etats de 
femmes , je ne sais s'il serait prudent de les en- 
gager en plus grand nombre a choisir une pro- 
fession ou elles se trouvent si fort en concurrence 
avec les hotnmes deja eux-memes si entasses 
dans cette voie. 

Le livret des expositions solennelles de pein- 
ture contient un cinquieme de noms feminins , 
qui , en plus d'un genre, se soutiennent avec 
honneur a cote des renommees masculines; dans 
la musique, on connait la quantite prodigieuse 
de talents de femmes qui se font remarquer sur 
le principal instrument que 1'usage leur ait per- 
mis de cultiver. Mais si dans l'un et l'autre de ces 
arts, elles sont inferieures en invention , si elles 
paraissent avec quelque apparence de raison 
peu familieres avec les difficultes les plus gran- 
des de la science, si elles sont inhabiles dans la 
composition , ou moins audacieuses et moins sa- 
vantes que les hommes dans leur execution , je 
suis fondee a croire que cela tient au prejuge 
qui les eloigne encore du sanctuaire le plus retire 
de Part, a la parole d'intimidation qui retentit 
sans cesse a leurs oreilles, et les empeche d'es- 
sayer avec audace , et de persister avec tena- 
cite. 



DES FEMMES. 95 

Comment se fait-il que ce ne soit que daus les 
arts ou les femmes se presentent en rivalite avec 
ies hommes, que leur inferiority se montre et se 
prolonge, tandis que dans Tart dramatique et 
celui du chant, ou nul ne saurait les remplacer, 
elles peuvent a bon droit se poser avec assurance 
les egales des plus hautes celebrites parmi les 
hommes artistes ? 

Je conviens qu'a beaucoup d'egards, dans le 
grand art de la peinture, des obstacles materiels 
s'opposent a ce que les femmes puissent user 
avec aisance des plus larges moyens d'execution, 
et parviennent a construire de vastes machines, 
des scenes grandioses, pareilles aux ceuvres mer- 
veilleuses que nous ont leguees Michel-Ange ou 
Paul-Veronese. Mais la musique n'oppose pas les 
memes obstacles. D'ou vient que tant de femmes 
promenent leurs doigts legers sur le piano avec 
une prestesse et une grace si remarquables ? d'ou 
vient qu'elles se rendent si habiles a lire la pen- 
see des grands maitres, et qu'elles ne savent ou 
n'osent pas se faire lire a leur tour en compo- 
sant comme eux ? Pourquoi done les femmes ne 
seraient-elles pas organisees musicalement com- 
me les Beethoven et les Mozart? pourquoi ne 
receleraient-elles point au-dedans d'elles-me- 
mes ces mysterieuses modulations, ces sympho- 
nies , ces accords aux mille voix , qui redisent 
dans tous les accents les orages du cceur, les 



96 fiDUCATiON 

sentiments secrets et les vagues reveries de 

Fame? 

Qu'est-ce done que cette hesitation timoree 
qui les empeche de laisser eclater au dehors les 
sensations qui les agitent, si ce n'est un vestige 
de servage qui comprime encore leur esprit 
apres avoir si longtemps comprime leur corps ? 

Croyez, si cela vous plait, auxgenies createurs 
de naissance, aux dons privilegies qui viennent 
d'en-haut plus rarement pour vous que pour les 
hommes ; mais de grace ne vous arretez point au 
travail secondaire de lecteur et de copiste, sans 
avoir aborde de bonne heure et longtemps etu- 
die les combinaisons de la science , qui ensei- 
gnent a imiter, a traduire , et de la , conduisent a 
Finvention. 

Dans notre epoque laborieuse et mercantile , 
ou Findustrie promene le niveau regulier qui 
jette la monotonie partout, les hommes out plus 
besoin que jamais du luxe des fetes et du con- 
traste poetique et pittoresque des arts qui les 
distraient et les delassent de la lourdeur el da 
souci des affaires ; ces desirs d'emotion et d'i- 
dealite, qui sont inextinguibles, assurentFavenir 
de Fart, et font taxer au prix de For les grands 
talents. 

Le charme distinct qui s'attache aux gracieu- 
ses creations des femmes, a leur style attrayant, 
a leur maniere delicate et seduisante de sentir 



DES FEMMES. 97 

et de pratiquer Tart , doit exciter de plus en plus 
l'emulation des femmes artistes. Leur carriere 
est moins epineuse que celle des hommes; les 
jeunes arbrisseaux peuvent croitre et grandh 
au milieu d'elles , sans crainte d'etre etioles par 
la foule des grands chenes qui les font perir a 
l'ombre. Une longue suite de progres a parcourir 
se deroule devant elles. 

II ne faut pas oublier, mon amie, que l'ai- 
franchissement intellectuel des femmes est une 
histoire de fr aiehe date; pour nous les arts, la 
poesie etaient naguere une science occulte dont 
les initiees comme de lumineux meteores se mon- 
traient de loin en loin dans les cieux; voila pour- 
quoi il nous reste tant de contrees fertiles a 
explorer, tant de forets vierges a defricher en- 
core, la ou les hommes ont promene depuis long- 
temps la co gnee victorieuse, et fraye des chemins 
spacieux, battus et rebattus par le vulgaire. 

A la faveur des idees recentes qui sont venues 
en leur temps, puisque Dieu Ta voulu ainsi, jeter 
sur les femmes un reflet nouveau d'egalite et de 
grandeur, un moment le monde a eu les yeux 
tixes sur elles, et ce ne sont pas des esperances 
vaines et des paroles sans portee, que celles qui 
sont assez puissantes pour attirer Tattention de 
tous. Au milieu des folles pensees et des concep- 
tions extravagantes qui allerent au-dela de toute 
sagesse et de toute tradition, il est reste en deca 

9 



m Education 

un esprit de justice et de bienveillance , des 
formes plus tolerantes qui ont fait crouler en un 
jour des preventions enracinees par les sieeles. 
Les ridicules attaches aux femmes savantes el 
toutesles satires qu'une moitie du genre humain 
prodiguait a Pautre, sont devenus des saillies 
de mauvais gout que la raison reprouve. II n'est 
pas un des coups portes par la gravite des phi- 
losophes, quelle que soit la verite qui les dirige, 
pas un trait aiguise par la verve caustique des 
poetes contre la fragilite des femmes, qui ne sau- 
rait atteindre tout aussi justement le cote faible 
des hommes. Elles peuvent aujourd'hui sans 
craindre les regards du monde , ni redouter les 
sourires de pitie des censeurs, se vouer au culte 
des arts. Gardons-nousdonc, lorsqu'une vocation 
fortement prononceese presente, de la gener dans 
son allure et de nous effrayer des consequences 
facheuses de son developpemenL Le temps 
present a des encouragements et des couronnes 
pour tous les talens de femmes serieux et con- 
sistants;le plus grand mal, amonsens, c'est qu T il 
entraine les jeunes filles artistes, qui sortent pres- 
que toutes de la classe laborieuse, a subir chaque 
jour l'ascendant des mceurs du luxe, a contracter 
des habitudes de distraction et des besoins d'ai- 
sance qui impriment le cachet de la faiblesse et 
de l'ambition native aux resolutions d'ou depend 
leur avenir. Je suis loin de desirer, au surplus, que 



DES FEMMES. 99 

Penseignement des arts se propage en restant tou- 
jours superficiel comme il est force de Petre dans 
Peducation generate des femmes ; je regarde ces 
pueriles tentatives, ces simulacres d 'etudes d'art, 
comme de precieuses depenses de temps et d'ar- 
gent qui pourraient etre utilement employees a 
des connaissances indispensables que Peducation 
de mode fait negliger; j'ecris principalement 
pour une classe qui doit bien se garder d'em- 
ployer ses heures a faire des arts une distraction 
frivole et vaniteuse. 

Je n'ai pas non pJus le dessein de chercher a 
faire naitre cette vocation parmi les jeunes filles 
qui la composent; mais a toutes celles qui par 
position se determinent serieusement a suivre 
cette route, au grand nombre surtout qui s'y 
decide avec legerete, je voudrais montrer de 
haut et faire prendre au serieux une profession 
si eminente. On ne dira jamais assez a quelles 
epreuves de corps et d'ame, a quelles dures exi- 
gences de travail, il faut qu'elles se resignent 
pour conquerir les palmes du talent qui donnent 
la gloire et la richesse. On ne saurait trop re- 
peter a toutes celles qui se sentent attirees par 
Je cote brillant de cette carriere , qu'elles sont 
plus loin du succes que celles qui n'en voient 
que les fatigues , qui comptent les defaillances 
et les revers qu'il leur faudra subir avant d'ar- 
river au but. 



100 EDUCATION 

Yous vous etonnerez peut-etre, mon amie, de 
me voir insister si souvent sur ces principes de 
force et d'abnegation personnelle; e'estque j'ap- 
prends chaque jour a mesurer la valeur du mot 
progres. Une experience lentement acquise me 
separe de plus en plus du dogme illusoire de la 
perfectibilite ; mon esprit se refuse a croire qu'on 
en a fini pour toujours avec les vertus stoiques 
et la constante resignation du passe, comme avec 
les rues tortueuses et les donjons de nos cites 
gothiques. Je tiens pour un des maux de notre 
epoque cette croyance a la perfection indivi- 
duelle, qui assimile la nature finie de l'intelli- 
gence et rimmutabilite de la conscience aux de- 
couvertes de la chimie et des forces mecaniques. 
II en resulte une aveugle indifference, un dedain 
pour les preceptes d'eternelle sagesse, qui para- 
hsent l'education entiere, 

Frappe de la marche ascendante et des modi- 
iications rapides qui s'operent dans la nature 
des corps, on demande a Pesprit, au mouvement 
invariable du cceur et des passions les transfor- 
mations successives que subit la matiere; on 
croit que la perfection doit surgir en toutes 
choses du changement qu'on invoque sans rela- 
che; et lorsqu'on aurait plus besoin que jamais 
de pratiquer cette vie pure et austere , source des 
grands talents seuls capables de nous placer au- 
dessus des rivalites innombrables, on se repose 



DES FEMMES. 101 

sur la foi du progres, sur les methodes pcifee- 
tionnces qui meprisent les etudes laborieuses e t 
diflieiles , sur les procedes ingenieux qui laissent 
des loisirs , favoriseut 1'inconstance et la paressr 
et propagent les mediocrites. 

Cependant, pour s'elever bieu haut dans les 
arts, les femmes, faibles et tiinides par caractere, 
doivent se soumettre plus forcemeat encore a ces 
principes severes qui de tout temps ont forme 
les grands hommes. II faut qu'elles renoncent 
a ces triompbes mesquins , a cette foule de cour- 
tisans dont se compose leur cortege, et qu'elles 
rejettent ces adulations mensongeres qui les 
accoutument a se contenter de pen en effleurant 
toutes choses. Autant les femmes sans etat, des- 
tinees a vivre paisibles et ignorees dans leur inte- 
rieur peuvent se former des occupations modes- 
tes, sedentaires et borner les limites de leur 
savoir; autant les femmes artistes ont besoin de 
la lumiere et de l'independance d'une vie active 
et exterieure pour tout voir et tout apprendre. 
Leur condition est tout exceptionnelle; c'est 
une vocation distincte qui necessite une direc- 
tion speciale. Ce n'est pas l'lnstruction parcimo- 
nieuse et l'etroitesse des vues dont on entoure 
les jeunes lilies de la bourgeoisie qui sauraient 
la faire eclore , c'est encore moins les minaude- 
ries factices, les usages frivoles et les coutumes 
oisives des demoiselles de la haute classe; il lui 



102 Education 

faut une atmosphere de franchise et de realite. 

Destinee a reproduire les richesses luxueuses 
de la nature, a refleter avec sincerite les nuances 
des mouvements accentues ou imperceptibles de 
Tame, I'artiste, meme enfant, a besoin de grandir 
a l'ombre de la liberte. Ne vous avisez done pas 
d'oter aux ressorts de son intelligence Paisance 
et la spontaneite qui les font mouvoir ; car, inde- 
pendamment des longues annees d'observations 
et de travail, elles sont necessaires pour former 
une artiste consommee; et si par hasard vous 
voulezvous garantir de ['apprehension que peut 
faire naitre en vous une existence sou vent dispa- 
rate avec celle des autres femmes, songez que 
plus une artiste s'eleve en talent, pluselle doit se 
montrer jalouse desa dignite et sympathiser avec 
les principes les plus purs de devouement et 
de haute moralite. 

Nobles heritieres que la fortune prend au ber- 
eeau et conduit par le monde au doux bruis- 
sement des fetes , vous qui ne connaissez de ia 
vie, si amere pour le plus grand nombre, que des 
reves capricieux et imaginaires formes dans les 
langueurs du repos et du bien-etre , n'enviez pas 
les fleurs qu'on jette au front d'une artiste cele- 
bre. Deiicates et craintives, vous ne sauriez en- 
durer les epines aigues qui s'entre-melent au par- 
fum de leurs vives couleurs* Votre enfance ne 
s'est point passee dans les pleurs a porter le far- 
deau grossissant des etudes rigoureuses; vous ne 



DES FEMMES. 103 

pourriez supporter plus tard les fatigues d'un 
travail sans fin, ces transes mortelles qu'il faut 
souffrir pour meriter toujours ces applaudisse- 
ments quienivrent Tame, ces epreuves du savoir 
qu'il faut renouveler et agrandir sans cesse, si 
l'on veut conserver l'eclat de son nom et Penten- 
dre resonner partout dans la foule comme une 
nuisique delicieuse. 

Ainsi tout se compense et s'harmonise : si la 
suprematie du talent et de la gloire etait un pri- 
vilege de la naissance ou s'obtenait par la ri- 
chesse, il ne resterait plus a la classe depourvue 
de ces avantages que Tobscurite des etats ser- 
viles ou la misere. 

Mais grace a Dieu , malgre les rigueurs qu'il 
impose a ses adeptes, Tartest accessible a tons : 
comme une religion sainte, il eleve et ennoblit les 
fideles admis dans son sanctuaire , et quelques- 
unes des joies qu'il procure suffisent pour rache- 
ter des annees de labeur et de peines. 

Douce consolation des araes ardentes ou me- 
lancoliques, la vocation des arts est une voix du 
Ciel qu'il faut ecouter toujours ; c'est elle qu'on 
vit apparaitre des les premieres impressions de 
madame Roland et qui devait repondre aux emo- 
tions profondes de son imagination fougueuse ; 
c'etait sa damme qui aurait feconde l'existence 
de cette jeune enfant passionnee pour les livres , 
nourrie de visions poetiques et bercee sur le« 



104 Education 

genoux des artistes. Les connaissances de Tart 
que les prejuges de famille refuserent a son edu- 
cation j eussent prolonge sa carriere et servi d'aii- 
ment a son coeur, tandis qu'en des jours de haine 
et de terreur la polemique violente des partis et 
les luttes ensanglantees moissonnerent une aussi 
belle vie de femme au milieu de sa course. 

Ainsi, de recente et triste memoire, une ele- 
gante tige s'epanouirait peut-etre en sa fleur, 
une jeune fille chaste et naive cultiverait encore 
l'art de Phidias et de Cellini, si le sort funeste ne 
l'eut enlevee loin de sa patrie ; sans une voca- 
tion contraire peut-etre la princesse Marie exis- 
terait encore heureuse d'animer le marbre et 
Pargile en peuplant son royal manoir de statuet- 
tes gracieuses qui souriraient a son bonheur. 

Que ce soit par attrait ou par devoir, l'essentiel 
apres tout, independamment de la persistance 
extreme des etudes, c'est que les femmes qui as- 
pirent a la profession des arts apercoivent la 
chaine secrete qui les relie tous entre eux ; rien 
n'est plus dangereux au debut d'une vocation, 
que d'abstraire l'intelligence et de la laisser s'ab- 
sorber dans une speciaiite unique sans luiouvrir 
la vue des idees generates : c'est le regard scru- 
tateur qui s'etend sur un vaste horizon , ainsi que 
la recherche incessante des analogies universelles, 
qui donnent a une artiste la profonde compre- 
hension de Tart, 



DES FEMMES. 105 

On aimerait a voir, comme dans les ecoles 
anciennes , la palette du peintre et le burin du 
graveur illastrer a la fois des noms de femmes, 
comme iis illustrerent ceux d'Albert Durer et 
de R.em brand t. 

La composition mnsieale, la sculpture, Telo- 
quence et la poesie ont entre elles des affinites 
dont le passe a su saisir la valeur et recueillir 
lutilite. Les artistes modernes, hommes ou fem- 
mes, ne cherchent pas assez a 1'imiter sur ce 
point en se rendant egalement habiles dans plu- 
sicurs arts en meme temps. 

Ouoi qu'il en soit, jamais les femmes ne se soul 
trouvees dans des conditions meilleures et en- 
tourees de plus de ressources pour completer 
leur education artistique : aussi quelques-unes des 
superiorites reelles qui les honorent et la foule 
de talents remarquables qui se troiuent aujour- 
d'hui dans leurs rangs donnent le droit d'etre 
tout-a-fait exigeant sur leur compte. Elles doi- 
vent songer maintenant a produire des resultats 
qui rappellent que de grands maitres les ont des 
longtemps devancees dans la carriere. Je ne crains 
pas de leur repeter a satiete qu'elles ne peuvent 
invoquer une muse plus puissante que le vouloir 
et la Constance. Dieu me garde de dire a toute 
intelligence de femme qu'elle n'est point d'une 
essence assez pure pour arriver a la conception 
de toutes choses ; trop de prophetes en manteau 



ioe Education 

d'hermine ont porte des jugements cruels qui 
recurentd'eclatants dementis de Tavenir. 

Je ne conseillerai pas plus a une jeune artiste 
de s'endormir raollement sur les dispositions 
brillantes qu'on remarque en elle, que de reculer 
devant les predictions sinistres qui la condam- 
nent a vegeter toujours. 

On trouve certains arts qui semblent exiger 
au premier abord des qualites physiques que la 
nature pourrait seule accorder; eh bien! pour 
ceux-la. meme, Petude et l'artifice operent des 
miracles capables d'encourager les moins fer- 
ventes. Vous devinez, mon amie, celui des arts 
que j'ai principalement en vue dans ces der- 
nieres lignes. J'avouerai qu'il y a peut-etre quel- 
que etrangete, pour ne pas dire hardiesse de ma 
part, a comprendre la profession dramatique 
dans Teducation des femmes ; je n'ignore pas 
Tantique reprobation qui pendant si longtemps 
s'est appesantie sur cette vocation profane; mais 
le temps , qui a fini par refroidir les foudres 
d'excommunication , comme les laves super- 
posees duVesuve, efface chaque jour les prejuges 
qui pesent encore sur un art que Talma et Ma- 
libran se chargeraient seuls de rehabiliter et 
d'ennoblir. 

Nous sommes deja bien eloignes des jours re- 
trospectifs de la restauration, ou M. de Bonald 
ecrivait avec un purisme avengle : « II est noble 



DES FEMMES. 107 

» de se devouer a Putilite publique, et ignoble de 
» se vendre aux plaisirs du public; c'est ce qui 
» fait que le titre d'homme public est un honneur, 
» et celui de comedien un outrage. » 

Tout en admirant Tart d'ecrire du savant au- 
teur de la Legislation primitive , on ne pent se 
defendre d'un sentiment de repulsion, en remar- 
quanl Foutrecuidance d'un langage si brusque- 
ment hasarde : malgre ces anathemes sonores , 
Dieu merci, nous en sommes an moins a la tole- 
rance pour la profession dramatique; mais il y 
a loin de la encore a Finteret et aux enseigne- 
ments moraux auxquels la jeunesse destinee a 
cette vocation est en droit de pretendre. Au lieu 
done d'abandonner a elle-meme comme on Fa fait 
jusqu'a present, la classe nombreuse des femmes 
qui se vouent au theatre, il me semble qu'il 
serait bien mieux de chercher a leur faire obte- 
nir toute la consideration que meritent leurs 
travaux et leur zele. 

Je n'essaierai pas d'envisager comment un art 
pareil pourrait devenir un des plus beaux etats 
de femme. C'est une question qui seule demande- 
rait un volume ; ccpendant, mon amie, je ne puis 
terminer cette lettre sans vous avouer que tout 
en accordant aux actrices la liberte qui leur est 
indispensable, sans exiger d'elles des mceurs 
plus severes que celles de la plupart des femmes 
du monde, je crois que leurs talents et leur fortu- 



108 Education 

dc n'auraient rien a perdre a la reform e de leur 
caractere, qu'il serait facile d'epurer par l'in- 
fluence d'une education plus morale; il me sem- 
ble que des femmes qui occtipent line place im- 
portante dans la societe par leur esprit et leur 
savoir, des femmes qui ont presque toutes recu 
de Dieu le don de la beautc et de la grace , en 
y joignant souvent l'attrait enchanteur d'une 
voix divine, devraient apprendre a rougir de 
profaner les charm es que le Ciel leur prodigue 
avec tant de largesse. 

II est naturel sans doute de viser a la richesse 
et a 1'eclat que la possession d'un art procure ; 
mais je ne puis penser que la plupart des artistes 
qui s'exercent chaque jour dans leur profes- 
sion a rendre les plus delicates pensees du cceur, 
acceptent volontiers la tache originelle qui les 
fletrit, en concourant elles-memes par leur con- 
duite a l'agrandir encore. 

Si j'osais elever la voix sur un sujet ou nulle 
iemme n'a seulement songe a porter les regards , 
je les conjurerais de rejeter loin d'elles ce lan- 
gage familier de camaraderie voyageuse , ces 
termes du metier qui denaturent leur gout et 
rabaissent leur jugement : sachant combien la 
vocation qui les met en evidence les expose aux 
seductions les plus perilleuses, ce ne serait point 
an nom des principes d'une raison simple et aus- 
tere que je les supplierais de chercher asanctifier 



DES FEMMES. 109 

le privilege de lear indepcndance; c'est au nom 
sfciil de Tart qui les glorifie que je les adjurerais 
de ne point deseendre a d'indignes faiblesses dont 
les homines eux-m ernes ne leur donnent jamais 
j'exemple; je leur demanderais quelle est cette 
ambition basse et cupide, qui leur fait croire que 
pour un pen plus d'or, des femmes d'un haut ta- 
lent peuvent se condamner a courber la tete 
devant la fatuite corruplrice qui achete le droit 
de les mepriser ; je chercherais a apprendre d'el- 
les comment tout le luxe de la terre et tous les 
tresors du monde sauraient ajouter un ravon 
de grandeur , une seule pensee d'orgucil capable 
d'egaler ce que le succes sublime d'une inspira- 
tion heureuse leur procure d'enivrement et de 
bonheur. 

C'est ainsi que je demanderais aux femmes que 
les grands succes de la scene ont eblouies, a celles 
que les prejuges du monde aveuglent a leur 
tour, pourquoi elles vont chercher une conside- 
ration hors d' elles- niemes en faisant l'echange 
d'un nom qu' elles ontillustre contre le nom litre 
d'une famille qui les dedaigne , au lieu de prefe- 
rer l'limon des hommes distingues par leur pro- 
pre valeur. 

Ce que je reprocherais enfin a quelques-unes 
des femmes qui se livrent a la plus belle et a la 
plus lucrative des professions , c'est 1'egoisme 
et la sccheresse qui souvent accompagnent une 



110 EDUCATION 

reputation qui doit une partie de sa gloire aux 
elans genereux qu'elle a fait naitre ; si j'enlevais 
aussi aux femmes artistes une susceptibilite ex- 
cessive, un amour-propre etroit et irritable, si 
j'obtenais d'elles une instruction pluslettree, plus 
etendue, j'en ferais des sujets admires de tons ; 
on verrait alors les femmes les plus pures bri- 
guer l'honneur de la carriere dramatique, qui 
mieux que toutes les autres les eleverait aux 
yeux de la societe entiere, pour avoir ramene 
Tart theatral a sa destination primitive en le 
faisant servir d'enseignement superieur a l'e- 
ducation nationale. 

Vous voyez bien , mon amie, qu'il faut que je 
m'arrete sur une question qui serait interminable 
comme tant d'autres , si Ton voulait en pour- 
suivre les developpements infinis \ je reviendrai 
sur cette matiere en d'autres chapitres ; je sens 
au bout de ma longue course que la lassitude me 
gagne. Pour terminer ce qui concerne les profes- 
sions de femmes, je tacherai, dans ma prochaine 
lettre, d'envisager la vocation religieuse. 

Au revoir, bonne Angelique , les jours clairs et 
prolonges, leur ravissante parure, plus propice 
au travail et a Pexpansive amitie, me font esperer 
que votre reponse ne se fera pas longtemps at- 
tendre. 



DES FEMMES. Ill 



ow«^<>oa**a»*o<»<>oj<>o«*«»»«*^o<»<>o>«o«oo<>oo<>»o<><>3>>j*»oooo«<>oo<»<>«oao>»»o»<>o>>i 



LETTRE SEPTIEME. 



VOCATION KELIGIEUSE. 

Eternel, incarne en nous, le sentiment reli- 
gieux jamais ne tarit sa source, il revet a tra- 
vers les ages toutes les formes necessities par le 
besoin et les lumieres du temps. Ce n'est pas 
seulement un souffle interieur qui se borne a 
murmurer au fond d'une ame elue, les sons lim- 
pides de Dieu et d'infini, c'est un cri d'enthou- 
siasme et d'amour qui retentit avec eclat dans 
les plus nobles coeurs. 

Quand les nations s'affaissent et succombent 
sous la main dessechee de l'egoisme et du doute, 
c'est son inspiration divine qui, en des jours 
marques par la providence, les regenere par la 
sainte parole de charite universelle; c'est son 
dogme sacre qui commande Tunion et la felicite 



412 EDUCATION 

de tons, attire a lui les plus aimants pour les 
associer comme des freres, en leur donnant la 
grande tache des vocations religieuses. 

Les temps les plus recules nous redisent les 
lueurs prophetiques, qui animerentaussiies fem- 
mes appelees a completer cette ceuvre incessante. 
Rien n'interrompt dans les siecles la somme de 
sacrifices et de pieuses resignations qu'elles s'irn- 
poserent pour concourir a cette grande pensee 
d'association religieuse des peuples; partout ou 
les hommes ont laisse des traces de culte et de 
sacerdoce, partout ou ils se sont reunis pour 
faire une ceuvre commune d'enseignement et de 
prieres, les femmes n'ont pas tarde a se preci- 
piter sur leurs pas, afin de suivre ou de surpasser 
leur zele. 

L'antiquite eut ses pretresses et ses sibylles 
ecrivant leurs livres sacres ou proferant leurs 
oracles; quand Rome abaissait les faisceaux con- 
sulages devant ses vestales, et leur accordait en 
retour d'un vie chaste et devouee , le droit su- 
blime de faire grace aux criminels qui se trou- 
vaient sur leur passage ; la Gaule recevait de ses 
druidesses le sentiment frenetique du courage 
belliqueux, qui excitait ses peuplades barbares 
a defendre avec heroisme le sol sacre de la pa- 
trie. 

C'est en partie pour repondre aux accents re- 
ligieux issus de la foi chretienne ,-que le mot de 



DES FEMMES. U3 

vocation fut cree ; l'impulsion premiere de la 
vie ascetique et religieuse qui prit naissance 
vers le milieu du troisieme siecle de notre ere, 
fut produite par un cbranlement pro fond des 
choses morales, un degout melancolique pour 
les tristes realites du monde paien. On sait que 
l'etat monastique fut fonde par quelques hom- 
ines epris des croyances nouvelles et guides par 
cette parole de l'Ecriture : « Si vous voidez etre 
parfaits, allez, vendez ce que vous avez, don- 
nez-le aux pauvres , et vous aurez un tresor daus 
le ciel ; ensuite venez, et suivez-moi. » 

Quoique ce fut un mouvement de salut per- 
sonnel , une sainte ardeur d'aspiration celeste 
qui entrainat egalement les femmes a embrasser 
le genre de vie monastique, sous l'apparence 
d'une vocation iudividuelle et ego'iste , les com- 
munautes religienses qui se multipliaient au 
sein de la chretiente, eurent une haute portee 
civilisatrice; les soupirs etouffes qui s'exh ale- 
rent du fond des cloitres profiterent longtemps 
a la cause de l'humanite en general et a celle 
des femmes en particulicr. 

Durant les mauvais jours du moyen-age, au 
moment ou une societe renaissante se cousti- 
tuait, les femmes trouverent dans les couvents 
un asile assure contre la violence et les iniquites 
d'alors. C'est la qu'elles vinreut s'initier au mi- 
lieu d'une famille spirituelle aux premieres do- 

10 



m Education 

tions de la science, et conquerir les principes 
d'egalite que la famille corporelle etait impuis- 
sante a leur donner. 

Si les regies austeres et surnatu relies de l'e- 
xistence claustrale n'avaient eu d'autre portee 
que de montrer aux plus enthousiastes le sejour 
terrestre comme une vallee de misere et de lar- 
rues qu'il fallait se haler de quitter au plus vite, 
si la vocation religieuse n'avait eu d'autre fin 
que d'entrainer les ames ardentes a deponiller 
leur envelopp^ grossiere et de les preparer a la 
derniere heure qui devait, disait-on , sonner 
prochainement pour tons; tant d'epreuves cruel- 
les n'eussent ete qu'un reve amer, un mensonge 
affreux, pareil a ceux des sectaires homicides 
et forcenes, qui, dans leur delire, abrutissent 
leur ame en mutilant leur corps. Sans la grande 
vue moralisante et charitable qui dominait ces 
pratiques dele teres , les resolutions extremes qui 
pousserent une multitude de jeunes filles a fuir 
le monde et a fouler aux pieds tout ce qui porte 
ici-bas le nom de bonheur, n'auraient ete que 
des tentatives partielles et infructueuses, et les 
fondations monastiques, au lieu de puiluler par- 
tout et de s'enraciner dans les siecles, auraient 
passe comme des institutions ephemeres que le 
moindre obstacle eut renversees sans retour : mais 
la vocation religieuse put se produire avec ses 
formes austeres et ses ramifications lointaines, 



DES FEMMES. 115 

parce quelle portait en elle les germes de ver- 
tus sociales et les principes d'association qui la 
soutiennent encore ; elle dut se propager et gran- 
dir, parce qu'elle etait semee sur un sol vegeta- 
tif qui sans doute attendait sa culture. 

Les Communautes religieuses, sainte milice 
de l'eglise chretienne, parent imposer le joug 
pesant du Seigneur aux vierges fideles et les 
condamner a une reclusion perpetueile, elles 
purent etouffer jusqu'au dernier souffle de leur 
spontaneite dans les etreintes d'une cellule op- 
pressive, sans abdiquer corame corporation la 
liberte d'agir sur le monde exterieur, sans re- 
noncer a la gloire de travailler avec leur disci- 
pline et leur savoir a la grande sociabilite des 
peuples. Longtemps la religieuse prit part a 
cette gloire en partageant ses vceux pleins de 
tendresse entre le ciel et la famille universelle: 
longtemps son esprit et son cceur s'echapperent 
au dehors des murailles sacrees pour ecouter 
le bruit des louanges et des conquetes de son 
divin epoux sur la terre, heureuse de rencon- 
trer en foule des cceurs a 1'unisson du sien et 
des esprits animes de la meme esperance. Elle 
ne posa de barriere entre le monde et elle que 
pour ramener sa pensee tout entiere de Dieu a 
tons ses freres , et de tons ses freres a Dieu, en 
repoussant toute distraction comme une tenta- 
tion dangereuse, et lorsqu'on la vovait hitter 



116 Education 

dans une meditation aussi corrosive que le ' si- 
moon enflamme du desert, lorsqu'elle jetait 
son voile epais comme un linceul sur toutes les 
joies mondaines, c'etait afin de puiser dans la 
priere et dans 1' extinction des attachements an- 
terieurs les tressaillements de pitie et d'amour 
pour les malheureux prives de pain et de con- 
solation, que sa foi lui ordonnait de soulager a 
toute heure. 

Le genie puissant des conciles en appeiant les 
femmes aux professions religieuses, en leur di- 
sant de quitter la maison paternelle pour venir 
habiter de sombres et silencieuses demeures, 
s'adressait aux plus riches et aux plus nobles 
damoiselles, aussi bien qu'aux plus humbles et 
aux plus pauvres vassales. II commandait de 
couvrir d'un voile aussi obscur les vetements 
de soie et d'or que les haillons de la misere, afin 
que dans la famille nouvelle qu'il confiait au gi- 
ron de l'Eglise, l'abbesse constitute reine et 
maitresse du troupeau timide , put distinguer, 
comme une mere juste et tendre, ses filles bien- 
aimees d'apres l'elevation de Tame et la bonte 
des actions, et non d'apres l'eclat du rang et les 
privileges de la naissance. 

II est certain que les femmes trouverent au 
couvent une egalite plus independante et plus 
intellectuelle que cette egalite confuse et igno- 
rante dont Fesclavage avait fait peser si long- 



DES FEMMES. 117 

temps le niveau surleur tete; elles v in rent cher- 
clier la un refuge contre un monde brutal et 
licencieux qui les meurtrissait encore de ses 
chaines; affranchies de la domination despotique 
et omnipotente des epoux , maitres severes et 
absolus qui les voulaient soumises jusqu'a la 
servilite, elles offrirent un spectacle inconnu k 
la terre, celui de femraes qui s'associaient selon 
une hierarchie fondee sur leur merite, et la li- 
bertc commencnit pour elles, puisque pour elles 
cessait rinferiorite originelle, etque leur foi, leur 
sagesse et leurs ceuvres imposaient sur leur 
front voile du chaste bandeau un caractere de 
dignite et de grandeur qui les elevait aux yeux 
de l'humanite entiere. 

Ainsi s'etait transformee et etendue sur une 
vaste echelle, la vocation religieuse des femmes, 
qu'on avail vue deja morale et majestueuse, 
mais trop restreinte, dans rinstitution des ^es- 
toles romaines. 

Lorsqu'un jour 1'histoire voudra poursuivre 
la trace de l'existence ancienne et universelle 
des femmes, dans toutes ses ramifications, en lui 
lendant l'animation reelle du mouvement et de 
la couleur, elle sera forcee d'assigner une large 
place aux periodes diverses de leur carriere 
religieuse ; elle fera voir en ces temps d'en- 
thousiasme , de celestes figures et de nobles 
actes qui remplissent la scene d'accenN gene- 



us Education 

reux et purs; sa voix eloquente redira 1'exalta- 
tion eclairee, la sensibilite d'ame, l'intensite ex- 
treme des instincts de chastete naturelle a notre 
sexe, qui depuis Fere chretienne ont produit , me- 
me au milieu du fanatisme credule et de l'igno- 
rante rudesse, une multitude de femmes celebres 
par leur stoicisme et leur douce moralite. Eile 
montrera la religieuse au centre des affaires de 
l'eglise et du cloitre principalement, qui for- 
maient la vie essentielle du m oven- age, prenant 
un role actif et important dans lequel on la voit 
deployer un devouement inalterable et une supe- 
riorite dirigeante extraordinaire. 

Les noms reveres des saintes Radegonde, Ba- 
thilde, Claire, Hildegarde, Catherine de Sienne, 
Therese et Marmion viendront briller sur les 
memes phylacteres qu'entourent les aureoles des 
saints Antoine , Augustin, Benoit, Bruno, Ber- 
nard, Charles Borromee et Vincent de Paul; ils 
orneront les saints portiques del'eglise militante 
et zelatrice de la civilisation d'alors. 

A cette epoque ou toutes les conditions etaient 
chancelantes, ou la societe semblait Hotter inde- 
cise entre la vie libre et seculiere et la vie asso- 
ciee et commune , ou tous les cceurs paraissaient 
aspirer aux choses nouvelles et laissaient voir 
des traces de cette melancolie triste et decoura- 
gee qui assombrit si fort notre siecle, qui pour- 
rait dire que ce ne fut pas une mission expresse 



DES FEMMES. 149 

efc progressive, que cette participation des fem- 
mes an grand travail humanitaire qui s'accom- 
plissait en ce temps-la dans le monde ? 

Aussi, quelle que soit la critique que la raison 
m'oblige a faire des phases ulterieures de la 
vocation religieuse des femmes,je me garderais 
bien de rien repudier de tout ce qui concerne 
leur intervention dans les choses d'en-haut; 
puree qu'il en est dti royaume des cieux comme 
du monde spiritual : on ne peut rien regler dans 
Pordre celeste, qui ne concerne Padministration 
de la terre; ni rien resoudre sur les destinees de 
Pame, qui ne rejaillisse forcement sur la vie du 
corps. 

En voyant avec quelle intelligence et quelle 
ferveur les femmes repondirent autrefois a Pap- 
pel religieux qui leur fut fait par les hommes les 
plus eminents et les plus sages, composant la hie- 
rarchie si active et si savante du vieux catholi- 
cisme , nous ne devons rien prejuger ni rien ex- 
clure des secours inattendus, des rayons lumi- 
neux de grace divine qui pourraient jaillir encore 
en elles 5 si jamais le monde pret a se ruer sur 
lui-meme eta se precipiter dans le gouffre beant 
de toutes les croyances eteintes, avait recours a 
leur influence pacifique et religieuse pour l'as- 
socier et le relier encore selon les vues redemp- 
trices de Dieu. 

Quoi qu'il en soit, en ne considerant les revoi u- 



120 Education 

tions successives de la carriere religieuse des 
femmes, que sous le rapport -philosophiq tie , on 
est force de convenir que son developpement a 
travers les siecles nombreux du christianisme 
embrasse tine sphere vaste et feconde dans leur 
vie intellectuelle et sociale. 

Ces ceuvres communes, si multiplies , si ele- 
vees dans leur but, ces jeunes, ces austerites, 
ces contemplations reveuses et solitaires, ne 
furent pas perdus pour leur avenir terrestre; 
tant d'efforts surhumains, tant d'epreuves acca- 
blantes supportees par des generations entieres 
de femmes, ont exhausse leur caractere aux yeux 
des homines. 

Ces ames exaltees et excentriques qui delais- 
saient la realite pour courir apres tine esperance 
vacillante en son beau jour, et terrible en sa dou- 
teuse lueur, ont grandement servi les destinees 
d'ici-bas, en croyant souvent n'agir que pour la 
vie future. Ces charitables fondatrices, ces abbes- 
ses vigilantes et capables qui servirent de mode- 
les aux mattresses femmes si actives et si indus- 
trieuses, qu'on vit plus tard devenir la tete et le 
bras des families, ne sont-ellcs pas l'honneur de 
Thumanite? IM'effacez rien des faits et gestes de 
ces saintes filles, eprises de nobles passions in- 
connues duvulgaire; leurs noms entasses meme 
dans les legendes les plus obscures ne sont-ils 
pas de glorieux trophees eleves par Tesprit d'as- 



DES FEMMES. 121 

so ciation religieuse qui harmonise et qui con- 
sole ? Ne sont-ils pas des palmes conquises sur le 
materialisme etroit et glace qui desunit et deses- 
pere ? 

Ouand la pensee se reporte a ces epoques de 
foi unanime ou le fluide religieux coulait a pleins 
bards et donnait aux ordres monastiques cette 
vive chaleur qui ranimait et propageait leur exis- 
tence, on devine aisement que le choix des voca- 
tions devenait facile et pouvait se constater avec 
une certitude rassurante; les preoccupations du 
monde, les habitudes devotieuses, les observan- 
ces rigides, exactes et minutieuses, qui se pra- 
tiquaieut au sein des families, l'influence , le 
bruit, l'eloge partout repete des monasteres 
s'offraient en aide aux vceux des novices , Tim- 
pression des premiers ages, Feducation mysti- 
que etTentourage desjeunes vierges, tout venait 
reveiller et raffermir les vues electives de Dieu 
sur elles , et tout fait presumer aussi qu'on dut 
rarement rencontrer alors des vocations forcees 
ou trompeuses. 

Mais lorsqu'en sa periode decroissante le dog- 
me catholique fut traverse par l'esprit de doute 
et d'examen qui engendra la reforme demolis- 
^ante, lorsque surtout le monachisme , se faisant 
envahisseur et ambitieux, favorisa Torgueil et 
la cupidite feodale dans l'exercice du droit d'ai- 
nesse, les vocations devinrent perilleuses et fra- 
ilties. 11 



122 EDUCATION 

Des que le scepticisme railleur , l'esprit nou- 
veau se glissant dans les livres et s'infiltrant au 
foyer domestique, ebranlerent les saintes doctri- 
nes jusqu'en leurs fondements et refroidirent 
Pardeur des fortes convictions , la voix du sacri- 
ficateur, du pretre, dut souvent trembler a Pins- 
tan t solennel qui consacrait la victime et enlevait 
au monde une existence que le monde avait for- 
cement preparee pour lui. Comment pouvaient- 
ils ne pas hesiter et fremir a la pensee de pren- 
dre line jeune fille elevee dans un milieu tres-peu 
mystique et faiblement religieux, pour l'enlever 
aux idees saines , a Pair tempere d'une societe 
plus douce qui souriait a son avenir , et Pen- 
trainer vivante au sejour des morts, en la livrant 
aux pratiques et aux regies de fer destinees a 
d'autres fins et mesurees pour des cceurs ine- 
branlables en leur croyance ? 

Si la loi de transformation qui regit Punivers 
ne nous etait revelee , si le passe laissant partout 
des ruines ne deposait en mourant des germes 
de renaissance que P avenir vient feconder tou- 
jours, on regretterait amerement ces vastes in- 
stitutions qui s'eteignent dans Pinaction et le si- 
lence; on se lamenteraital'aspectdetant d'idees 
saintes et sublimes, si laborieuses et si conque- 
rantes, qui s'emoussent en vieillissant et ne lais- 
sent apres elles qu'ambitions enervees et coutu- 
mes oiseuses 5 mais rien ne meurt : n'est-il pas vrai, 



DES FEMMES. 123 

mon amie, tout n'est que deplacement ou trans- 
figuration ? 

II y a un principe, vous le savez , Angelique, 
bien plus vrai que toutes les certitudes fictiv«s 
qui echappent sans cesse a nos investigations. 
Ce principe , c'est le mouvement qui se perpetue 
dans 1'infini : en lui reside l'existence universelle; 
a son aspect, la science devrait apprehender de 
ferraer les cercles nombreux qu'elle trace, et la 
sagesse qui harmonise et qui ordonne devrait 
redouter d'emprisonner la liberte humaine dans 
Fetroite enceinte des formes immobiles. Sans 
doute ils eurent leur attrait et leur gloire, ces 
jours d^union et d'esperance qui eclairaierit Par- 
deur genereuse et la foi vive du moyen-age. En 
ce temps ou l'figlise, pour accomplir ses grands 
desseins, s'appuyait sur le bras fort des cenobi- 
tes, la profession religieuse pouvait se propager 
alors avec sa fougue premiere et se maintenir 
dans toute sa rigueur. 

Quand il s'agissait de cultiver dans Tame des 
chastes recluses les prcceptes et les examples qui 
devaient servir de lumiere a toutes les femmes , 
le zele des neophytes put conserver a la perpe- 
tuite des vceux leur serenite originelle. Tant que 
les abbayes persistantes , infatigables ruches eta- 
blies au milieu des bois , grouperent autour 
d'elles ces essaims d'artisans et de laboureurs qui 
les aidaient dansleurs exploitations importantes, 



i24 Education 

tant que ces cohortes saintes furent ainsi affairees 
a conqueri r le monde en defri chant le sol et 
policant les peuples , le vehieule d'utilite sociale 
qui les tenait en haleine , dissimula souvent le 
vice fondamental des vocations en elles-memes ; 
mais a mesure que les societes religieuses com- 
muniquerent la vie civilisee aux populations 
seculieres, le souffle vital s'affaiblissait et s'etei- 
gnait au milieu d'elles. 

A mesure que le cloitre transplantait ou mul- 
tipliait ses voussures, il etait force de s'occuper 
a resserrer ou a reconstruire le faisceau de ses 
regies primitives ; il est facile de demeler, dans 
les moindres velleites de reformes qui s'opere- 
rent au sein des communautes religieuses, le ver 
rongeur qui les minait continuellement par la 
base. Ces abus sans cesse repetes , ces vicissitu- 
des renaissantes qui attaquerent tant de celebres 
fondations au moment de leur prosperite la plus 
grande, en sont une preuve convainquante. Les 
repulsions suscitees partout contre les ordres mo- 
nastiques, le cri general de reprobation qui fut 
jete enfin par la majeure partie de la chretiente 
meme , independamment des causes exterieures 
qui le provoquerent, derivait d'un mal interne et 
radical , et ce mal ne fut autre que l'erreur pro- 
fonde qui donna une perpetration immuable au 
mode defectueux qu'on a encore de constater et 
d'edifier les vocations. 



DES FEMMES. 125 

Cette erreur consista dans l'idee qu'on s'etait 
faite de les considerer ab anteriori comme eter- 
nelles et predisposant fatalement de la destinee 
temporaire. C'etait la une faute capitale qui pro- 
duisit deux consequences funestes que le temps 
fut loin d'affaiblir. 

La premiere conduisit a croire qu'il etait inu- 
tile de compter Page des neophytes, marquees du 
signe d' election : cette confiance etait une impru- 
dence horrible, car elle ne tenait aucun compte 
du temps qui change, comme on sait, les sensa- 
tions, les gouts et les temperaments, et par cela 
seul modifie singulierement le caractere d'in- 
neite et d'invariabilite qu'on attribuait aux vo- 
cations religieuses. 

La deuxieme consequence est celle qui fit 
prendre pour une pierre de touche infaillibie la 
puissance momentanee du milieu ou se prepa- 
rait le noviciat. Une si grande credulite rendait 
meme peu exigeant sur la duree des epreuves 
qu'on faisait subir aux novices : « Le monde n'a 
» exige que trop de temps pour les reflexions et les 
» epreuves, leur disait Massillon, vous etiez nni- 
» res pour la vie religieuse , les premiers jours 
» que la grace vous inspira la resolution de vous 
» y consacrer. » Et au lieu de preparer des ren- 
fance les jeunes vierges aux habitudes constantes 
de modestie , de purete, de desinteressement et 
d'obeissance , on prenait des caracteres tout 



126 Education 

formes, des jeunes personnes nourries et abreu- 
vees par les idees du monde, dans l'age ou Pes- 
perance a des ailes, ou. les reves sont si riants et 
si mobiles; et Ton croyait, apres quelques mois 
d'attente , avoir sonde les mysterieuses profon- 
deurs de Tame, on se figurait pouvoir effacer an 
cceur des nonnes pieuses les impressions d'une 
education premiere, et separer le passe de Tave- 
nir comme on tranchait la longue et belle che- 
velure qui servait d'ornement a leur visage ; sur 
des indices aussi fragiles, on ne craignait pas de 
faire contracter des engagements indissolubles ? 
on prononcait des arrets terribles sur l'enthou- 
siasme d'un jour qui s'eteignait souvent au reveil 
du lendemain, en jetant sur une vie entiere le 
desespoir et la douleur. 

C'est a peine si une telle temerite eiit ete par- 
donnable a l'origine de la vie monastique , car il 
suffit de porter les regards vers les epoques les 
plus prosperes de la profession religieuse, pour 
voir que les pasteurs de l'Eglise ou seniores pous- 
serent vainement devant eux ces troupeaux d'a~ 
mes exaltees en les animant de cette parole qui 
operait les conversions des premiers temps; ils 
ne furent pas toujours capables de les defendre 
meme sous les verroux et sous les grilles contre 
les pieges et les exemples de la vie ordinaire^ 
qui est essentiellement mondaine et entichee de 
bonheur terrestre* 



DES FEMMES. 127 

En effet, malgre les fortes impressions qu'on 
faisait eprouver, malgre les preceptes severes 
qu'on inoculait avec tant de ferveur, on se voyait 
contraint sans cesse de subir l'ascendant de la 
nature etdes inclinations premieres; a toute heure 
on pouvait se convaincre, par les reactions vio- 
lentes qu'on s'efforcait d'aneantir , qu'on avait 
non-seulement pose des regies exceptionnelles et 
impossibles, mais que souvent on faisait des ap- 
pels dangereux et sacrileges en placantune foule 
d'existences dans une condition ou Yon ne pou- 
vait les maintenir qu'a l'aide des chatiments et 
de la terreur. C'est avec un sentiment de tristesse 
qu'on envisage ces troupes nombreuses de chas- 
tes filles livrees ainsi aux tortures des scrupules 
ou de la frayeur, en butte aux tentations sata- 
niques qui les obsedent. C'est pitie de voir tant 
de freles et douces creatures succomber si jeu- 
nes sous les acces febriles des hallucinations ex- 
tatiques qui les consument, et Ton concoit aussi 
que les esprits durent finir par se revolter en 
voyant ajouter aux jeunes, a la discipline et aux 
privations de sommeil, deja si austeres, ces mi- 
nutions periodiques moins ostensibles , mais plus 
cruelles encore, qui etouffaient les sombres re- 
grets et le dernier cri de resistance au cceur des 
pauvres recluses. 

Cependant le moyen-age a disparu , cette tot 
brulante qui tourmentait les solitaires n'exisfo 



428 Education 

plus, la religieuse ne traverse plus le cloitre 
pour courir au desert, alteree de cette soif du 
neant que rien ne peut assouvir; elle ne macere 
plus son corps pour degager son ame et rompre 
d'un elan rapide les liens qui la retiennent a la 
terre ; au milieu d'une societe qui a change de 
face, la vocation religieuse n ? est plus la meme : 
ses chaines sont moins pesantes, mais on ne ren- 
contre plus en elle les elements qui la faisaient 
croitre et grandir dans sa force et dans sa libre 
spontaneite. (Ten est fait! le couvent n'a plus 
d'autre oeuvre a remplir que le soin de son am- 
bition privee, d'autre gloire que sa prosperite 
particuliere : la vie claustrale se consume en 
contemplations steriles , et Ton commence a se 
demander ponrquoi cesvceux siausteres? pour- 
quoi cette autorite toujours plus despotique, et 
ces grands biens qui s'accumulent sans cesse ? 

On decouvre pour les determinations qui con- 
duisent au monastere, comme pour les relations 
qui attachent au monde , des motifs apparents 
et des raisons frivoles. Partout on parle de vo- 
cations surprises ou conlraintes ; on dirait meme 
que la parole des predicateurs preparant les ve- 
tures est pleine de circonlocutions et d'art; au- 
trefois elle s'eprenait d'ad miration pour le saint 
enthousiasme des chastes filles qui se vonaient 
au service de Dieu , elle temperait leur zele; a ce 
moment, elle aiguillonne leur foi, et cherche a 



DES FEMMES. 120 

les premunir contre les influences pernicieuses 
et les souvenirs seduisants du monde. Ecoutez 
l'eloquent eveque de Clermont inspirant le rae- 
pris du siecle auxjeunes vierges qu'il catechise. 
« Helas ! » dit-il, a si vous connaissiez le fond 
» et l'interieur de ce monde miserable , si vous 
» pouviez entrer dans les details secrets de scs 

■ soucis et de ses noires inquietudes ; si vous pou- 
» viez percer cette premiere ecorce qui n'offre 

■ aux yeux que joie , que plaisirs, que pompe et 
» que magnificence; que vous le trouveriez dif- 
» ferent de ce qu'il parait! Vous n'y verriez que 

■ des malheureux : le pere divise d'avec l'en- 
i fant, Tepoux d'avec l'epouse; le frere dresser 
» des embuches au frere, l'ami se defier de son 

■ ami ! etc. etc. » 

Ce noir tableau du monde etait done devenu 
necessaire a la tiedeur et aux frequents retours 
des novices vers les seductions du siecle. Mas- 
sillon continue encore avec ces nuances delieates 
et cette puissance du grand orateur et du profond 
moraliste en parlant de ces maisons religieuses 
infortunees 

« Ou le premier esprit est tombe, ou la regu- 
a larite ne s'observeplus : e'est laou setrouvent 
» en grand nombre des vierges infideles, mecon- 
» tentes et malheureuses de leur ctat , portant 
» le reste de joug avec une tristesse et une repu- 
» gnance qui accablent; plus elles conservent do 



130 Education 

>> liaisons et de confraternite avec le monde, plus 
» la religion leur parait triste et affreuse !... Quel- 
» les sontles amertumes d'une vierge infidele que 
» le monde a seduite et qui voit ses penchants 
» mondains renfermes pour toujours dans le saint 
» lieu ! elle traine partout ses degouts et son in- 
» quietude ; les rigueurs d'une sainte discipline 
» deviennent pour elle un fardeau qu'elle ne peut 
« plus porter; elle ne trouve plus dans le secret 
» du sanctuaire d' autre plaisir que dans les fan- 
» tomes qu'une imagination dereglee lui retrace, 
» et la priere n'est plus pour elle qu'une con- 
» trainte ou un tumulte d'images profanes qui 
» s'offrent en foule a son esprit, etc., etc, » 

Aux eclatantes couleurs, a l'etude minutieuse 
du coeur humain dans ses replis les plus caches, 
on sent que la vocation religieuse a besoin d'une 
voix souple et suave pour attirer a elle ; on croit 
comprendre qu'elle n'etait deja plus qu'une aspi- 
ration au repos individuel ou un interet d'opu- 
lente famille. 

En voyant l'illustre prelat tracer la nouvelle 
existence des demoiselles de distinction que le 
depit, Fambition, oulacontrainte amene pour la 
plupart au couvent, on s'apercoit qu'ii ne s'agit 
plus de songer a lixer la volonte d'une seule pour 
former dans l'esprit de toutes la solidarite d'une 
noble et vaste entreprise; il n'est plus question 
de grands travaux, d'hospitalite ni de frappants 



DES FEMMES. 131 

exemples de vertus sociales : la civilisation s'est 
deja pourvue ailleurs; la condition religieuse 
n'est plus pour les femmes qu'une maniere d'e- 
tre, un usage ou les arrangements prives predo- 
minent; le cloitre est devenu Pasile de la noblesse 
ou de la haute bourgeoisie : c'est ce qui fait dire 
si malicieusement a La Bruyere « qu'ii s'est 
» trouve des jeunes filles qui avaient de la vertu, 
y de la sante, de la ferveur et une bonne voca- 
» tion, rnais qui n'etaient pas assez riches pour 
» faire dans une riche abbaye vceu dePAUvRETE. » 
La vocation religieuse ne se prolonge pas 
moins avec ses principes rigoureux et ses doc- 
trines invariableSj niais elle a perdu le sens de 
sa destinee d'autrefois; les corporations sont 
toujours etendues et florissantes, grace a leurs 
richesses inalienables, mais le sacrifice qu'elles 
exigent encore a perdu sa grandeur, parce qu'il 
s'est amoindri dans son but. Depuis longtemps 
le caractere de libre election pour le choix des 
abbesses, qui donnait a l'etat religieux un gage 
de securite et d'emulation immense, a disparu ; 
la superbe monarchic de Louis XIV a jete son 
manteau de pourpre et de domination sur le cloi- 
tre comme partout; Petiquette guindee, infatuee 
d'elegance et de bonnes manieres, a penetre jus- 
qu'au parvis du chceur et porte la distraction 
des futilites mondaines dans les habitudes du 
convent, comme ailleurs. La vie devote, remplie 



132 Education 

de pratiques superficielles et mesquines, arem- 
place le sentiment profond de religiosite qui ca- 
racterisait la foi antique; cette chaleur de con- 
viction independante en son essor, cette hardiesse 
d'inspiration qu'on venerait dans les femmes 
appelees a la profession religieuse, aurait cho- 
que les formes compassees du grand siecle : le 
couvent n'a que faire d'elevation, d'entrainement 
et d'amour fraternel, « pour ces devoirs glaces 
» qu'on y remplit avec une exactitude oil il entre 
» plus de petitesse que de vertu r . » 

C'etait peu avant cette quietude indolente 
qui avait envahi la carriere religieuse , qu'etait 
apparu Vincent de Paul , et deja le saint homme 
de Dieu, s'emparant du veritable esprit chretien 
qui semblait empreint de rudesse aux dedicates et 
nobles demoiselles reunies dans les monasteres, 
avait demande aux filles du peuple Tenseigne- 
ment des pauvres, les soins doux et patients pro- 
digues aux malades et aux infirmes; il avait en- 
leve au couvent ce qui faisait sa glotre aux yeux 
des hommes; ia charite n'attendait plus les mal- 
heureux a la porte de ces saintes demeures, car 
la vierge simple et active ecartait son voile et 
brisait ses fers pour porter la parole de conso- 
lation et le pain de Taumone au domicile de la 
misere. 

1 Massillon. 



DES FEMMES. 133 

Survienne ensuite ce regne bizarre, epris cfen- 
ivrantes frivolites, et la cellule, toute retiree 
qu'elle soit, ne cachera pas Fignorance gracieuse 
et les secrets entretiens de fadeurs et deloisirs des 
grands da monde qui se murmurent au cloitre ; 
il n'y aura pas un livre d'historiettes a la mode 
qui n'ait sou enlevement et sa touriere, pas un 
bruit de galante aventure qui n'ait son coup d'e- 
pee entre gentilshommes rivaux, donne a la clarte 
furtive de la lune , sous les hautes murailles du 
couvent romanesque. 

Vous le voyez, la profession monastique est 
plongee dans ces graves riens, ces mystiques ve- 
tilles qui inspirent la verve petillante du chantre 
de Vert- Vert. Apres ce coup mortel du ridicule 
porte sur un etat si jnstement respecte, on doit 
s'attendre a voir profaner et detruire le saint 
asile , corcme tout ce qui faisait obstacle a la mar- 
che torrentueuse du siecle ; mais la violence, qui 
renverse toujours sans savoir de quelle sorte on 
pourrait edifier, s'expose a subir des reactions 
victorieuses; nous vimes tous comment fut res- 
taure l'etat religieux : il ne pouvait mieux faire 
que de revetir la gravite de notre epoque. 

Quoi qu'il en soit, que peut-on attendre de lui 
a cette heure? n'est-il pas a presumer que, sem- 
blable a toutes les institutions vieiliies et recre- 
pites, il ne pourra refleurir qu'a la condition 
de se transformer? 



134 fiDUCATION 

Precaire et dependant de la mobilite des lois 
seculieres, le couvent n'est pins construit que sur 
le sable; on se demande quelle est son utilite 
pour la civilisation et pour les femmes elles- 
memes dans le present. Si on considere la ten- 
dance des mceurs et 1'etat des croyances, on est 
force de eonvenir que les corporations denuees 
de generosite et faibles de savoir sont une ano- 
malie pour notre temps ; et cependant telle est la 
valeur extreme du principe qui les unit, que par 
la simple tolerance d'exister comme congrega- 
tions, de pouvoir utiliser les ressources de la vie 
commune, par la seule liberte qu'elles ont d'ac- 
cumuler en main-morte les dots qu'elles recoi- 
vent, elles augmentent chaque jour leur pros- 
perite materielle et prennent une influence de 
corps et de fortune qui ne peut manquer de gros- 
sir les embarras et les mecontentements de la 
societe actuelle. 

On connait l'instinct envahisseur des commu- 
nautes religieuses, on sait qu'elles presentent 
un reseau qui tend a s'agrandir outre mesure, 
personne n'ignore qu'elles aspirent a placer 1'en- 
seignement des femmes sous la tutelle chance- 
lante de leurs codes retrogrades; et partout ; ex- 
cepte dans l'ceuvre admirable de saint Vincent 
de Paul , la vocation monastique n'est plus que 
1'ombre d'elle-meme ; sa passion dominante est 
Famour de la propriete ; son stimulant le plus 



DES FEMMES. 135 

vif, un sentiment de haine contre l'instruction 
seculiere; c'est l'esprit du corps ancien, mais 
hostile et degenere , avec sa domination et ses 
regrets, harcclant l'esprit nouveau qui, desuni , 
morcele, entoure de gene, est a la merci de toutes 
les perplexites, mais se propage quand meme, 
plein de vigueur et d'avenir. 

Meprisant le monde et ne faisant plus rien 
pour luij la profession religieuse est reduile a 
l'egoisme du celibat. Bien abritee, bien pronee, 
bienetayee, au lieu d'etre devouee et compa- 
tissante, pour remplir ses vues etroites et tra- 
vailler a son agrandissement, elle lutte et triom- 
phe souvent par des moyens que la justice et la 
bonte reprouvent. C'est surtout a l'interieur de 
nos provinces qu'elle fait une guerre cruelle aux 
etablissements diriges par des femmes d'un vrai 
merite, dont le travail perseverant et le courage 
eprouve out tant de peine a resister a ses attaques 
journalieres; c'est la qu'on la voit faire usage de 
la puissance d'affiliationdont elle dispose encore, 
pour obscurcir les lumieres de l'intelligence et 
tourmenter ces institutrices-meres , remplies de 
moralite et de savoir, qui ont autant de diflicultc 
a servir les progrcs de Tenseignement qu'a pro- 
curer une position sortable a leur famille. 

Si les fondations religieuses, qui presque tou- 
tes se livrent a Tinstruction de la jeunesse, se dc- 
veloppent aujourcPhui plus au large et plus en 



ia6 fiDUCATION 

securite que les institutions particulieres ecrasees 
par les frais excessifs et la concurrence effrenee 
qui foisonne de toutes parts , ce n'est point a la 
foi vivante, a l'excellence des vocations qu'il 
faut l'attribuer; c'est au principe materiel d'as- 
sociation qui les constitue , qu'on doit demander 
le secret de leur croissance et de leurs res- 
sources; car, a cette heure, quel est le nom de 
simple religieuse ou de superieure haute et 
digne qui s'eleve de la multitude des commu- 
nautes ? quels sont les actes de vertus saillantes 
que le peuple, qui n'a cependant pas perdu le 
sentiment de ce qui est grand et beau , cherche 
a glorifier et a benir ? 

A notre epoque laborieuse et agitee, ou se sou- 
levent tant d'idees effervescentes, ou se font tant 
d'etudes et de recherches dans les arts, la phi- 
losophic, les sciences et Findustrie , et auxquelles 
un grand nombre de femmes apportent leur part 
de talent et de zele , quelle est la pensee chaleu- 
reuse qui soil sortie du cloitre? quelle ceuvre 
marquante, quel precieux livre de sagesse ou 
d'erudition ont signale l'existence de tant de 
femmes appelees a cette mission sainte qui con- 
duisait autrefois les populations dans la route 
eclairee du salut? 

C'est que, il faut le dire, le genie claustral, pro- 
vidence des temps qui ne sont plus , est un souffle 
mourant; la vocation religieuse, qui n'existe que 



DES FEMMES. 137 

par les traditions du passe, est forcement station- 
naire ; il est permis de croire que la force morale 
et les exemples genereux, dontnotre societe a un 
sipressant besoin, ne peuvent ressortir des dog- 
mes alteres et des reminiscences du moyen-age; la 
perfection ne reside plus dans ces demonstrations 
contre nature que la raison reprouve ; la voix cle 
la sagesse nous fait entendre qu'on peut conten- 
ter Dieu, aider ses freres et resister aux mauvais 
penchants du monde , sans lit de cendres ni cilice ; 
aux yeuxde tous, le devouement et Fabnegation 
des sceurs de Charite qui se vouent au soulagement 
des infirmites humaines , sont des actions plus 
dignes du Ciel que le morne recueillement et la 
captivite perpetuelle; et en verite, si les priva- 
tions et 1'anxiete qu'on endure avec force et re- 
signation , sont un titre de vertu meritante et 
glorieuse anpres du Tout-Puissant, il n'est plus 
necessaire de se refugier au cloitre pour se li- 
vrer a des epreuves de cette nature; ce n'est 
plus id erne au sein des maisons assez fortunees 
pour donner la dotation a leurs filles, que le 
couvent n accueille qu'a ce prix, que la vocation 
religieuse doit puiser les sentiments de haute 
charite et l'esprit de sacrifice. 

Si la vertu chretienne consiste dans les soui- 
frances du corps et de Tame, dans la sainte ar- 
deur et la sublimite des devoirs les plus difficiles . 
a remplir, c'est au foyer des families qui savenr 

12 



138 Education 

compatir aux douleurs qu'elles endurent, c'est 
parmi ceux qui n'ont d'autre appui que la Pro- 
vidence et le labeur aride qui soutiennent leur 
position dependante et chanceuse, que vous la 
trouverez sans coup ferir. 

Aujourd'hui que nul n'est exempt de cette 
instruction moyenne qui penetre partout, on ne 
sait que penser de cette indifference impassible, 
de cette inactivite qui consume les lentes heures 
des recluses, il faut croire que la langueur et 
l'uniformite de la vie vegetative qu'on mene au 
couvent, n'y attirent plus ces femmes aimantes 
et exaltees qui recherchaient autrefois la soli- 
tude, pour s'elancer dans l'infini et se nourrir 
d'idealites mysterieuses. La meditation y est de- 
faillante et morte; aucune existence noble et 
belle n'y fait entendre un cantique pieux sur nos 
miseres de chaque jour; pas un soupir d'atten- 
drissement, aucune voix melodieuse et douce ne 
depasse les murs de ces habitations paisibles 
pour appeler a elie tant d'ames souffrantes et 
affaissees que le desespoir dechire ; aussi voit- 
on chaque jour ces orphelines delaissees , ces 
pauvres filles sans appui, egarees, trahies ou 
coupables , courir a la honte ou au suicide , plu- 
tot que de venir au couvent comrae a la maison 
maternelle, pour y trouver la vie et Pesperance, 
parce qu'elles redouteraient en y entrant de voir 
pour jamais se fermer sur elles les portes du saint 



DES FEMMES. 139 

lieu, parce que la parole qui les y attire n'est ni 
assez affectueuse ni assez consolante, et que la 
cloche monotone et les sombres accents des psal- 
modies du cloitre retentissent comme un echo 
lugubre dans leur ame; du reste, les couvents 
n'abritent plus les filles pauvres; et les jeunes 
demoiselles qui se destinent a l'etat religieux , 
auraient des principes assez surs et des mceurs 
assez honnetes pour resister sans lui aux seduc- 
tions mondaines. En se consacrant a la retraite , 
elies causent des douleurs a la tendresse mater- 
nelle, et la societe perd en elles, sans compensa- 
tion, des meres de famille qui eussent donne de 
beaux exemples de devouement et d'amour. 

Ainsi se trouve annule , pour ainsi dire , le 
sacerdoce de cette vocation ; son role sera dis- 
cordant sur la scene du monde, tant qu'elle con- 
servera le caractere et l'esprit qu'elle a recus des 
temps gothiques; il nous est impossible, a moins 
de voir tomber subitement en poussiere tout ce 
qui est en progres, tout ce qui fait la force et 
la prosperite de la civilisation actuelle, a moins 
d'assister a la resurrection d'un passe dont les 
restes sont battus en breche de toutes parts, 
nous ne pouvons, dis-je, concevoir la reappari- 
tion des communautes religieuses de femmes dans 
leur splendeur premiere, sous la forme constitu- 
tive qui les dirige encore. 

Cependant quoique l'esprit monastique soit 



uo Education 

depuis longtemps insensible aux perplexites hu- 
maines, et sans influence sur la destinee des 
femmes, il ne peut pas s'eteindre; le sentiment 
des choses celestes, le besoin de la retraite dans 
les caracteres timides et soucieux suffiraient seuls 
pourl'alimenter et lemaintenir. M. de Segrais dit 
quelque part « qu'entre les causes generates qui 
» multiplient le nombre des couvents , il avait 
» remarque un penchant parmi les jeunes filles 
» et les jeunes garcons dans les pays chauds, a se 
» faire religieuses ou religieuxdans Page de Fado- 
» lescence, et que c'etait la une attaque de me- 
» lancolie d'amour , une maladie qu'il appelait la 
» petite-verole de Pesprit. » 

Disons serieusement que la force et la richesse 
qui resident dans Pharmonie de la vie commune, 
sontune demonstration parlante, une realisation 
precieuse - d'-association morale et materielle qui 
seule serait un titre de conservation aux yeux 
des economistes actuels. 

D'un autre cote, la profession religieuse , de- 
venant plus directe en son action , plus attentive 
a deviner et a guerir les maladies de Pame, ne 
peut-elle pas d'un moment a Pautre produire un 
entrainement nouveau, offrir un asile de repos 
et de paix aux esprits fatigues des convulsions 
politiques incessantes , qui font naitre la haine et 
la confusion partout ? Est-il presumable que 
toutes les volontes qui savent converger sur un 



DES FEMMES. 144 

meme point, s'entendre et se reunir, quand il 
s'agit de voler a la conquete du progres materiel, 
seront tou jours divergentes pour arriver au pro- 
gres moral ? La perfectibilite ne serait-elle habile 
qu'a assouplir les metaux et diriger la force 
inerte ? L'intelligence de Phomme ne se montre- 
rait done toute puissante que pourassembler les 
pierres , composer des produits chimiques et 
harmoniser d'arides classifications? Lorsque l'as- 
sociation industrielle perce les monts, traverse 
les mers, embrasse tout le globe pour le soumet- 
tre a sa loi , quand le genie mecanique silionne 
la terre de rainures en fer, i'arrose de canaux, la 
pourvoit d'arteres et de veines comme un etre 
anime et immense, en lui disant de faire sentir 
a tous les peuples dont elle est la mere , les batte- 
ments multiplies de son cceur, Tassociation mo- 
rale ne saura-t-elle rien tenter pour relier les 
sympathies humaines, et pour obtenir dans For- 
dre spirituel des resultats d'une valeur equiva- 
lente? ]N~e saura-t-elle conduire les intelligences 
les plus libres et les plus eclairees vers un meme 
interet qui les anime, vers un but commun 
qu'elles affectionnent, et les amener toutes a en- 
fanter ces vastes ceuvres de la pensee qu'on ne 
pent attendre que du concours des plus energi- 
ques et des plus nobles volontes ? 

Dans sa sphere, la vocation religieuse doit 



142 Education 

pretendre a cette fin salutaire , il ne tient qtra 
elle de reconquerir son antique influence , en se 
placant a la tete du mouvement moral ; c'est a la 
condition de s'assimiler tousles elements nou- 
veaux et progressifs utiles a Pelevation des fem- 
mes; il faut qu'elle se hate de poser un terme a 
la duree du celibat et rejette toutes les modifi- 
cations qui engourdissent le corps et la pensee. 
En depouillant ces mystiques frivolites, si pro- 
digues du temps et si avares de reflexions se- 
rieuses, elle doit se poser la solution du pro- 
bleme de Passociation dans ses consequences les 
plus genereuses et les plus favorables a la cause 
des femmes, 

Esperons que la science religieuse trouvera le 
moyen de raviver et d'adoucir les ressorts en- 
durcis de 1'ame, comme la science de l'indus- 
trie regenere et fait fleurir la puissance mate- 
rielle ; croyons que , sans cesser d'etre fidele au 
Dieu de charite qui n y est point un Bieu de mort 1 , 
au sein du recueillement et de la solitude , la re- 
ligieuse saura puiser dans les plus belles annees 
de la jeunesse les grands talents et les vertus so- 
ciales, qu'elle reportera au milieu de la vie 
reelle,pour la moraliser et rembellir; et que, 
semblable a la vestale romaine, sa presence au . 

1 J.-J. Rousseau. 



DES FEMMES. 143 

milieu de nos assemblies publiques et de nos 
fetes, ramenera des jours plus riants et plus purs. 
Xous ne chercherons plus alors quelle est la 
voie qui peut sauver le monde , car nous serons 
entres dans la terre promise de 1'association et 
de la foi. 



DBS FEMMES. i43 



J JiJ >^S MJMJIH 



EETTRE HUTTTEME. 



DF. L AUTO II I TV.. 



Mon amie, apres avoir pareouru Unites les 
carrieres remplies par les femmes qui prennent 
une part active et laborieuse au mouvemcnt de 
la soeiete , apres avoir , clans 1'intcret de tons et 
d'elles-memes , donnc quelqnes indications uti- 
les pour faciliter les conditions nouvelles que 
leur impose le cours accelere du monde , j'e> 
prouve le besoin de revenir sur mes pas, afin 
de rechercher comment on pent aider chacune 
d'elles a s'acheminer hardimenfc des l'enfance la 
plus tend re vers cette elevation ]>romise par le 
travail intellectuel et les efforts de la raison. Je 
crois qu'ayant fait ressortir tout cc qu'il v a de 
force et de volonte dans la liberie et I'intelli-*- 
gitnee, il est urgent d<= montrer le complement 

13 



i%* Education 

<le« rcssourcea educationnelles pmsees dans la 
valeur de l'antorite morale. 

D'abord, j'ai du m'inqiiieter du but qu'il fal- 
lait atteindre/et constater les facultes necessai- 
res qui sont le partage de tous ; maintenant je 
vais m'enquerir des moyens exterieurs qui peu- 
vent leur servir d'auxiliaires , ce dessein me ra- 
mene precisement a mon livre , que je veux 
m'efforcer, autant que possible, de rendre pra- 
tique en education. 

Sans parler de la vocation des femraes stric- 
tement menageres, dont le nombre tend chaque 
jour a decroitre, nous avons vu que les femmes 
sont appelees, dans l'etat actuel de l'industrie, 
aux beaux arts, a renseignement et a la pro- 
fession religieuse. Vous savez que, dans ma pen- 
see intime, la femme etant une creation aussi 
complete que Phomme, je la juge capable de 
remplir toutes les fonctions auxquelles vou- 
dront l'appeler le genie progressif et la sagesse 
constitutive. 

Mais ce n'est point ce propos que je me sens 
disposee a discuter avec vous en ce moment; ]*e 
peiise meme que ces questions de priorite, ces 
pretentions qui se dressent pour retomber im- 
puissantes en cherchant a constituer tin droit , 
sont tout-a-fait inutiles ou oiseuses ; la science 
peut decreter que la femme est un etre frele oti 
inferieur, la souverainete masculine peut rrous 



DES FfcMMES. U7 

condamner autocratiquement a un servage in- 
tellectuel que nulle emancipation ne saurait af- 
franchir, nous n'en sommes pas moins les arbi- 
tral absolus de notre destinee partielle, comme 
les hommes le sont de la leur. 

Lorsque la moitie du genre humnin , l'homme, 
notre compagnon de voyage sur cette terre, a 
si long-temps deprime sapropre espece en tyran 
orgueilleux., lorsqu'il a charge des chaines de- 
pendantes de Tautorite intellectuelle la presque 
totalite de sa race , nous , timides et douces , fa- 
ciles a comprimer par la force rude et mate- 
rielle , pouvions-nous ne pas courber le front 
dans la poussiere en presence d'un maitre -si 
jaloux et si superbe , puisque , pour subir sans 
doute la loi fatale d'autorite, qui a besoin d'op- 
primer.pour grandir , rhumanite dans sa toute- 
puissance est encore inclinee comme un frele 
roseau devanl quelques chenes geants qui pla- 
nent sur le monde, en ne laissant arriver que les 
pales rayons d'un soleil obscurci sur la muki- 
tude des rejetons qui semblent faits pour ve- 
geter dans Tombre ? 

Quoi qu'il en soit de ces volontes collectives 
d'hommes on de femmes destines a suivre 
eternellement l'impulsion superieure qui les 
entraine, la volonle individuelle , prise isole- 
ment partout et au hasard, n'en est pas moins 
lihre et maifresse d'agir sur elle-meme et 



w Education 

capable d'cdiiier seule sa propre elevation, 
Cest a cette puissance de liberte et de cou- 
rage que je crois egale dans les deux sexes, 
c'est a toutes les intelligences que je juge es- 
claves de cette volonte qui est la moralite 
meme, que je m'adresse sans relache, avec la 
certitude d'etre entendue de loin en loin par 
quelques-uns ; aussi vous avez du remarquer, 
mon amie, dans le cours de ces epitres, le pen- 
chant qui me porte a quitter sou vent Penfance 
inattentive pour parler a un age plus pensif et 
plus mur ; je sens a chaque instant la necessite 
de m'appuyer sur la raison et la conscience 
deja grandie, qui se plaisent a ecouter la parole 
sensee qui les eclaire; car si, a tout prendre , 
Tesprit pent se passer de guide et de secours 
pour tout comprendre et tout acquerir, le cceur 
ne pent sans danger se livrer avec la meme in- 
dependance aux caprices des passions contrai- 
res qui l'emeuvent dans tous les sens. 

Si rintelligence qui n'agit jamais seule, puis- 
que rien n'est fractionne en nous, tire sa plus 
grande valeur de la volonte , il importe done 
de donner nne direction a cette volonte si effi— 
cace et si indispensable pour faire mouvoir tous 
les ressorts intellectuels. 

Mais pour que l'education soit habile a mon~ 
trer la route , il faut qu'elle sache bien elle- 
meme le point ou elle veut arriver; les imper- 



DES 1EMMES. 149 

fections de I'enfanee sont semblables a celles de 
1'homme fait; memes difficultes se presentent 
dans Part de gouverner les homines et les en- 
fants. L 'education ne pouvant, dans le tout 
jeune age , se confier a la libre volonte ni a l'in- 
felligence qui en depend essentiellement, est 
obligee, dans ce cas d'omnipotente necessite, 
d'agir avec certitude en s'etayant sur l'autorite. 
Yous vous rappelez qu'en vous parlant des 
vocations en general , je vous ai fait sentir Tim- 
portance d'une education morale primitive, 
commune et indispensable a tous les etats; 
mais cette education generale, pablique ou par- 
ticuliere, la plus essentielle a mon sens, ne 
peut etre qu'imparfaite en elle-mcme et inutile 
a la jeunesse , autant que decourageante pour 
les institutrices, sans uu principe sacre solide- 
ment etabli et presidant avec une gravite sainte 
aux developpements de la vie sociale ou de fa- 
mille. Telle est malheureusement la situation 
dans laquelle se trouve le principe d'autorite a 
uotre epoque, qu'on pourrait presque dire que 
Peducation n'existe plus. Car, sans le pouvoir 
qu'il recevait de la sanction morale, l'enseigne- 
ment n'est plus qu'une profession aride et mer- 
cenaire , qui n'est prisee quelque peu que lors- 
qu'elle mene a la fortune com me toutes les in- 
dustries. Depuis que Tautorite divine a perdu 
son prestige et sa grandeur par l'engourdisse- 



i5o Education 

ment du dogme; depuis que la lettre sterile et 
presque morte a paralyse Tesprit , que la forme 
a obscurci le fond en laissant retrecir la puis- 
sance qui emane de Dieu , source de toute au- 
torite , il n'en> est aucune qui puisse rester de- 
bout. Comment esperer que le pouvoir religieux 
puisse imposer a la volonte des infants, lors- 
qu'il a perdu tout credit sur le coeur des 
peres; quand l'autorite temporelle, a son tour 
vivante image de la suprematie celeste, a recu 
le contre-coup des croyances eteintes , et que 
['impulsion ne sait plus si c'est d'en haut ou 
d'en bas qu'elle doit venir, on ne doit pas s'e- 
fconner de voir l'autorite aussi chancelante et 
aussi meconnue dans les families que dans la 
societe entiere. 

Au sein de cette confusion , qui laisse l'anar- 
chie victorieuse repandre partout le sceptieisme 
demolisseur , on doit redouter de voir l'educa- 
tion privee et publique devenir une impossibi- 
lity radicale ; voila pourtant ou nous sommes 
pres d'ariver. Garrottee et muette au milieu du 
chaos des idees modernes, l'autorite ne ren- 
contre dans tous les ages et dans tous les rangs 
que des volontes insoumises et des desirs •- 
rants : autorite civile et militaire, autorite 
Scientifique , morale ou religieuse , autorite ma- 
ritale ou paternelle ; toutes ces puissances qui 
s'entr'aident et se donnent la main ? tous ces 



DES FEMMES. 151 

principes d'ordre cles temps passes, coustruits 
et poses avec unite et ensemble , ont perdu 
leur plus grande valeur, qui etait celle de l'liar- 
monie. Cependantla Providence, en laissant dis- 
crediter et amoindrir les grandes institutions 
fondees par nos peres avec taut de sacrifices et 
d'ardeur, a semble vouloir leur renovation lente 
et successive, puisqu'elle nous a refuse le pou- 
voir de les relever dans leur integrite premiere. 
Ce qui reste done a faire de plus sage, apres 
avoir jete plus d'un regard attriste autour de 
soi, e'est de s'appuyer sur d'imposants debris, 
et de travailler a construire prudemment l'edi- 
lice avec les elements nouveaux, qui se font 
jour au milieu du desordre et de la necessity 
imperieuse; mais il ne faut point se dissimuler 
que e'est une tache dure et aride, lorsqu'ou 
prend a ccenr de la concevoir dans sa grandeur 
et sa duree. 

En education surtout, ou. la pratique et la 
lecon vivante de I'exemple sont cent fois plus 
attachantes que toutes les theories renfermees 
dans tous les traites speciaux, je plains tous 
ceux que le sort appelle a cette ceuvre; je ge- 
mis a toute he lire sur ma prop re condition, sur 
mon insuffisance a gouverner selon le zele qui 
m'anime tant d'esprits retifs et indepeiulants , 
qui ne me laissent aucune prise ; je regrette de 
ue poo voir offrir aux jeimes fiiles de. beaux mor 



i52 EDUCATION 

deles de fetmnes, des carac teres saints et ve- 
neres du monde, qu'elles n'aiiraient qu'a choisir 
et a i miter. 

Quoique moins dure et moins chanceuse que 
la noire, la mission des meres n'est pas exempte 
cf incertitudes et de labeurs infructueux ; car 
pendant ies annees nombreuses que j'ai con- 
sacrees aux soins de l'education publique , j'ai 
trouve bien peu de jeunes (illes eievees et ins- 
truites par leur mere dans ce respect pro fond 
pour l'autorite des maitresses qui rend noire 
devoir si doux et si facile a remplir. 

Je vous dirai dans le cours de cette lettre 
quelques-unes des tribulations causees par le 
deperissement du pouvoir enseignant; je vous 
raconterai les encouragements que rencontrent 
Tinsubordination et 1'inconvenance des eleves 
dans la faiblesse et la legerete des parents. 

C'est line triste condition de P esprit humain 
de se jeter sans cesse dans les extremes; sans 
doute l'autorite antique etait destinee a voir 
palir son aureole imposante; lorsque 1'edifice est 
mine par le temps, la decrepitude doit gagaer 
du faite aux fondations les plus profondes. 

Le despotismede la famille, incompatible avec 
les sentiments et les besoins nouveaux, a du 
perir par ses propres exces; mais l'esprit de 
critique et de re for me va toujours au-dela du 
but, la puissance abusive a compromis dans sa 



DES FEMMKS. 153 

chute rautoi ile eile-meme: les preoccupation:* 
de regoisme, les romans , l'indiiference , le 
theatre et les conversations frivoles et fron- 
deuses detachent de jour en jour quelques-uns 
des vestiges que le temps a laisses sur le sol. 

Je n'essaierai pas tTappuyer de preuves his- 
toriques 1'autorite immense que possedait le 
chef de la familie, en montrant la decroissance 
inevitable qu'elle a du subirjusqu'a nos jours; 
il est certain que cetle severite extreme du 
pouvoir absolu qui regnait sans partage au 
foyer domestique etait depuis long-temps uri 
objet de gene et de censure meme a l'epoque 
de Montaigne, puisque toutes les idees de dou- 
ceur et de liberte introduites naguere dans la 
reforme educationnelle , si eloquemment deve- 
loppees par Jean-Jacques, avaient ete indiquces 
avec une penetration admirable par "esprit si 
observateur et si hardi du vieux philosophe 
gascon, 

« Je veux mal ( dit - il dans son excellent 
» chapitre de I' affection des peres mix en fants ) 

* a cette coutume d'interdire aux enfants Tap- 
» pellation paternelle et leur enjoindre une es- 
» trangere com me plus reverentiaie , nature 
i> n'avant voloii tiers pas suflisamment pourvu a 
» notre auctorite. Nous appelons Dieu puissant 

* pcre, et dedaignons que nos enfants nous en 
v apnellent. Jai reforme cette creance en ma 



154 EDUCATION 

» famille , j'accuse toute violence en reducationt 
» d'une ame tendre qu'on dresse pour i'hon- 
» neur et la liberte. 11 y a je ne sais quoi de 
* servile en la rigueur et en la contrainte , et 
» tiens que ce qui ne se peut faire par la raison 
» et par prudence et adresse ne se fait jamais 
» par la force, on m'a ainsi eleve; ils disent 
» qu'en tout mon premier age , je n'ai taste des 
» verges que deux coups et bien mollement. J'ai 
» 4u la pareille aux enfants que j'ay eu ; ils 
» me meurent tons en main, mais Leonore, ma 
-> seule fille qui est echappe a cette infortune, a 
» atteint six ans et plus sans qu'on ayt employe 
» a sa conduite et pour le chatiment de ses 
» fautej pueriles (i'indulgence de sa mere s'y 
» appliquant aysement) autres choses que pa- 
» roles et bien doulces. » 

« C'est aussi folie et injustice, dit-il plus bas , 
» de priver les enfants qui sont en age de la fa- 
» miliarite des peres et vouloir maintenir eti 
» leur endroict une morgue austere et dedai- 
» gneuse, esperant par la les tenir en crainte et 
« en obeissanee ; quand je pourrais me faire 
» eraindre, j'aimerais encore mieux me faire ai- 
» mer. » 

La ferule et les corrections rigoureuses de 
toute nature out disparu avec la rudesse pater- 
nelle, nous sommes alles jusqu'a une familia- 
rity plus ^rande peut-ctre que le demandah 



DES FEMMES. 155 

Montaigne et bien au-dela des voeux exp rimes 
par Rousseau : la tendresse maternelle n'aurait 
plus le courage de se voiler a present que Pe- 
galite la plus entiere s'est glissee dans les rela- 
tions filiales, de telle sorte que le tutoiement , 
signe de camaraderie amicale et sans gfcne , est 
devenu L' APPELLATION usitee dans le langage 
des enfants s'adressant aux meres. 

Je suis loin de censurer tout ce qu'il y a de 
douceur et de satisfaction dans les epancbements 
de la tend re amitie qu'une mere accorde a sa 
fille, c'est peut-etre une des jouissances les plus 
vives et les plus completes que nous puissions 
eprouver;mais; en ysongeant, pouvons-nousnier 
que ce ne soit pas un plaisir ego'iste , un besoin 
satisfait qui ne profite souvent qu'a nous ? II 
faudrait savoir si ces caresses, cette idolatrie 
que nous ne prenons plus la peine de contenir 
ni de dissimuler, ne sont pas une faute grave en 
education; si nous delasser et nous distraire 
sans cesse par des cajoleries qui n'obtiennent 
jamais un grand retour , est un acte de vertu , un 
principe moral qui demande quelque effort de 
sagesse et de devouement plus profitable a nos 
enfants qu'une reserve calme , une resolution 
constante et courageuse pour faire executer les 
devoirs que leur education comporte. Enfin , 
et c'est la ou je veux en venir , il y a on age 
ou la raison est presque nulle cbez les enfants; 



156 EDUCATION 

maintenant que vous n'avez plus tie crainte a 
leur inspirer , puisque le grand principe du 
chatiment eternel qui etait la base la plus con- 
sistante de Panto-rite , etabli sur la terreur et 
sur la force, est; presque disparu; aujourd'hui 
qu'on ne peut plus inspirer cette horreur du 
mal par la laideur du peche dont le nom seu£ 
blessait autrefois la bouche; a present que les re- 
glements et les preceptes jadis si uniformes et si 
generalement suivis sont aux trois quarts effaces 
et que chacun suit une route a sa guise , ne vous 
etonnez pas si le desordre est peut-etre encore 
plus flagrant dans Teducation que partoutailleurs. 
Afin de remedier a de tels maux, de severer 
commandements, de precieux ecrits sont faits 
journellement sur cette matiere; mais, sembla- 
bles aux consultations d'apparat qu'on assemble 
an lit d'un rnourant , ils ne peuvent offrir 
d'expedient salutaire et d'infaillible guerison 
pour des douleurs si profondes et si inveterees. 
On ne sait a quel entendre de tant de pronos- 
tics dissemblables, laquelle choisir de tant de 
recettes contraires; c'est une verite, que jamais 
on n'a fait de plus beaux livres, qu'en au- 
cun temps on n'a ecrit de si fines observations, 
des theories aussi minutieuses pour clever la 
jeunesse, et jamais peut-etre il n'y eut moins 
de veritable education qu'a present. Aujourd'hui 
que Penseignement n'a plus d'autre appui que 



BES FEMMBS. 157 

la raison et la liberie, tons les eonseils, tons les 
traites d'education pratique, si compliques, si 
detailles qu'ils soient, ne peuvent suffire ; en ge- 
neral, ils contiennent d'exeellentes observations, 
presentent des moyens tres-u tiles aux femmes 
eminemment morales qui les concoivent pour 
s'eiudier elles-memes en particulier et diriger 
leurs propres enfants; mais ne croyez pas gou- 
verner la jeuuesse avec ce seul secours appli- 
cable a tons, ce serait pour la plupart des 
meres une tentative sans resultat. On a beau faire 
un travail d'aualyse exacte et minutiense , per- 
sonne ne peut prescrire la millieme partie de 
ce que doit faire elle-meme une mere institu- 
tive gouvernante de sa fille pour se conformer 
aux differences de lieux, de circonstances et de 
caracteres qui varient sans cesse dans chaque 
famille ; et a vrai dire, on a voulu tenter Timpos- 
sible en education : on a cherche a scruter le 
coeur des fragiles enfants mieux qu'on ne scrute 
celui des homraes faits, et obtenir des petits ce 
qu'on n'essaie pas de demander aux grands; on 
s'est attache a des vetilles en novant ses regards 
dans des particularites qu'on a su rendre im- 
portantes, et on a neglige d'insister sur les grands 
traits devant lesquels tout le reste devait s'ei 
facer on palir. 

Dans Teducation ancicnnc , on n 1 avait que faire 
de toutes ces subtililcs, de tous ces preservalifs 



158 Education 

niesqukss et puerils qui deviennent insaisissa- 
bles; on ne songeait pas a s'arreter devant les 
nuances infiiiies des fantaisies et des caprices vo- 
lontaires de Fenfance ; on savait que tout etre 
avait une ame egale a sauver pour Teternite , et 
cette grande pensee dominait toutes les autres; 
et l'education, qui etait une pour tous, trouvait 
en elle une autorite immense : il fallait que la 
volonte se fit humble et soumise en se laissant 
guider dans la voie du salut commun , sous peine 
d'eternelles et terribles punitions ; et la jeunesse 
tout entiere, souple et craintive , obeissait avec 
docilite a tous les commandements, parce que le 
nom tout-puissant du Dieu bon ou severe dans 
son equite se inelait sans cesse aux ordres pres- 
ents, parce qu'elle voyait en tous lieux les peres, 
les parents, les etrangers, les serviteurs s'in- 
cliner pieusement devant Tautorite religieuse 
qui avait trace les regies sur toutes choses et 
inultiplie les devoirs pour les fideles de tout age 
et de toutes conditions a toute heure du jour. 

L'autorite a beau se trouver pure et bien cons- 
tituee dans les Hvres dont nous parlions plus 
haut, Tart et Fesprit de doctrine peuvent faire 
concorder leurs preceptes 4ivec les commande- 
ments religieux , et meltre au premier rang 
Tinstruction des saintes Ecritures ; ce qui con- 
stitue Finfluence du pouvoir religieux , comme 
de tout autre pouvoir, e'est Funiversalite du 



DES FEMMES. 159 

sentiment qu'il inspire, c'est la foi vencree qu'rl 
verse dans tous les cceurs; ce sont les pratiques 
qu'il impose et les lois qu'il fait executer par 
tous a des degres differents, mais dont 1'utilite 
sainte n'est contestee par aucun , qui font de 
Paulorite religieuse le plus puissant auxiliaire 
en education. 

Ce ne sont pas les paroles ni 1'instruction 
evangelique renfermees dans les livres, et qne 
les maitresses ou les meres font repeter a leurs 
enfants, qui seules peuvent les emouvoir et les 
convainere, mais bien plutot la lecon incessante 
de rexemple formant autour d'eux une atmos- 
phere d'obeissance repandue sur tout, qui leu-r 
fait aimer le devoir. 

Qu'arrtve-t-il dans Ted u cation nouvelie, ou la 
religion n'est que sur les levres et non dans les 
cceurs? c'est que I'enfance, habile a lire dans 
nos regards , distingue les mots de la chose 
meme; eile se garde bien de se rendre a de 
rares exhortations prononcees avec gravite et 
mystere; ce qu'elle imite , ce sont des actions 
frequentes, des habitudes inalterable^ ce qu'elle 
venere, c'est la conviction qui repete sous milk? 
formes une pensee-mere qui la domine en don- 
nant {'impulsion a tout ce qui l'entoure. 

Oui, mon amie, c'est un malheur pour les 
soeieles com me pour les individus , lorsque 
l'autorite sous quel que forme qtt'elle se pro- 



160 EDUCATION 

duise ne s'appuie pas surun principe assez eleve 
pour etre a l'abri des atteintes terrestres. Que 
voulez-vous? les epoques progressives, comtne 
on les appelle, ont aussi leur grande part de dif- 
ficultes et de miseres ; a tout prendre , le recit 
des conquetes de la sagesse humaine est une bien 
lamentable histoire, a cote des victoires on com- 
pte les revers, toujours le gain rembruni par la 
perte. Le siecle qui s'ecoule a beau jeter derriere 
lui un regard triomphateur ; son char, comrae ce- 
lui des siecles passes, ne fait qu'osciller entreles 
memes obstacles. A peine un peuple a~t-il som- 
meille quelques jours dans les liens de Tautonte 
qui l'opprimait en le protegeant, qu'on les lui 
voit briser pour courir les ha sards d'une liberte 
qui le livre aux intemperies de l'orgueil et du 
doute. Si Ton attendait avant d'agir en educa- 
tion qu'une autorite morale et religieuse bit 
affermie on reconstruite dans sa plenitude et 
sa vigueur, il faudrait bien son vent se condam- 
ner an mutisme on a 1'inaction. Mais il existe 
dans la societe des generations qui s'elevent un 
pouvoirde fait comme an milieu des generations 
deja vieillies, dans la revoke ou la contrainte, un 
etat transitif dont la duree, quoique passagere, 
estcependant assez prolongee pour faire profiler 
le present des ressources nouvelles qui condui- 
sent aux renovations plus completes de Pavenir. 
La Providence ne dctruit lien entierement 



DES FEMMES. 161 

sans substittier en partie autre chose a la place; 
a defatit de convictions religieuses et (Faetorite 
universelle , il surgit au besoin uti pouvoir ine- 
vitable, qui, n'etant pas exerce au nom d'une 
doctrine unique et veneree de tous, fait entendre 
line voix imperieuse a laquelle de tout temps 
il a fallu forcement obeir : ce pouvoir, c'est la 
necessite, qui enfante parfois la force et la sa- 
gesse. 

L'autorite ancienue dans l'education s'ap- 
puyait stir des principes plus hauls et plus forts 
pour arriver a ses fins; elle ne reclamait pas de 
la jeunesse ce que nous sommes obliges d'en 
exiger aujourd'hui ; et, chose etrange , il etait 
peut-etre plus facile d'etre generalement obei, en 
commandant autrefois l'humilite, la simplicite, 
le mepris des vanites mondaines qui favorisent 
1'ignorance paisible et Finactivite insoucieuse, 
qu'en prechant comme a present le regne de hi 
capacite, le dogme du talent, source cle l'opu- 
lence et de la gloire. 

Croyez-vous qu'il soit facile d'acquerir les 
connaissances etendues , d'obtenir les progres 
rapides, l'habilete precoce qui procurent l'hon- 
neur et les richesses ? pensez - vous que les 
hcureux parvenus qui font Tacquisition de ces 
grands avantages y arrivent sans agitation et 
saus courage? Regurdcz la pi up art des elus de 
La fortune, les sommites de toutes sortes qui out 

14. 



462 Education 

atteint une position bri| , ante ou ^^ ^ ^ 
pas sans peine qu'ils ont traverse tant d'ecueils; 
vous verrez aussi q Ue I es habitudes de tra- 
vail d'ordre et d'obeissance qu'ils contracted 
dans leur jeunesse ont ete pour eux le plus sur 
moyen de meriter la possession de ces pros- 
per,^ enviees par la foule : aussi sans trop 
^avoir en quoi consiste I'educalion, ni preciser 
usage qu'on en vent faire, on sent par instinct 

, P ° UVoir W<ille a sur l'avenir des masses et 
de 1 homme j sole . tout fe n]ond(? .^ ^ 

elle, on entend repeter a toute heure cct axiome : 
La fortune passe et I'educalion reste; avec elle, 
ajoute-t-on encore, on se tire toujours d'affaire. 

A S fam <'les sans nombre font reellement d'o- 
nereux sacrifices pour enlever leurs enfants a 
1 education du foyer domestique dans le dessein 
de contribuer a leur bonheur en leur donnant 
une d.rection jugee preferable parce qu'elle est 
Plus elegante et plus policee. U est bon dere- 
marqner q„ e dans ce cas on confond toujours 

instruct.on, qu'on va chercher cherement au 
loin a veel education, qn'on peut recevoir cliez 
soi dans la pins humble chaumiere. 

N'est-ce pas une verite encore qu'au rang de 
nos reves les plus chers , des chimeres que nous 
caressons a vec le plus de charme se trouvel'espe- 
rance de voir nos enfants posseder Ies rares per- 
fections auxquelles nous avons si souveut aspire 



DES FEMMES i(j* 

nous-memes. Ambitieuses meres, lie desirous- 

nous pas pour nos fiiles, non-seulement labeaute 
qui nous abandonne ou qui nous fit defaut, mais 
encore les dons du coeur et les graces de 1'espri 
qui les feraient cherir ? Ne voudrions-nous pas 
leur leguer a tout jamais 1'experience qui nous 
eclaire, les talents et les vertus qu'il n'esi plus 
temps pour nous d'acquerir ? 

Preoccupe comme on Test aujourd'hui des 
interets et du bonheur de la famille, et recon- 
naissant que Fed u cation peut devenif la souve- 
raine dispensatrice de tant de favours , on croi- 
rait que nous devons tous avoir une haute ide 
de l'enseignement , un sentiment profond de 
l'autorite qu'il exige, aussi bien iorsque nous 
nous imposons cette tache a nous-memes qu'en 
la confiant aux autres ; il n'en est rien , je vous 
l'assure, l'opinion des parents se dirige sur une 
foule d'idees superficielles et fausses qui perver- 
tissent chaque jour les saines traditions que le 
passe nous a transmises; on se figure d'apres 
certaines redites erronees sur le progres des lu- 
mieres que Tame n'a plus aucune tache originelle, 
que le mal et les passions sonten decroissance ; 
on est convaincu que le dix-neuvieme siecle pos- 
sede des procedes materiels tout nouveaux pour 
inoculer 1'application et le vouloir aux enfants, 
et leur donner la science sans recourir aux vieux 
urincipes de moral isatioia a l'usage de nos pores; 



164 Education 

on ne pent pas dire que Feducafion ne scut la 
grande affaire, mais on s'arrange avec la pensee 
que Phabilete des institu trices ou la recette des 
methodes doivent tenir lieu entre eleves et mai- 
tresses de consideration morale d'un cote et de 
docilite respectneuse de Fa litre. 

Je vous disais done en ayant egard a Finteret 
personnel, qui tient une trop vaste place au temps 
actuel pour ne pas entrer en ligne de compte f 
qu'a defaut de croyance et de grandes vues 
dirigeantes et intelligibles ponr tous, qui fbr- 
maient an temps passe rattention exclusive des 
esprits et rejaillissaient dans tous les degres de 
Fed uca lion, que la soif des rich esses et de la 
renoramee qui exalte Fimagination devrait etre 
de nos jours un stimulant, une necessite factice t 
favorable au developpement du merite superieur. 
Sans doute aussi les volontes etant les memes en 
convoitise mais inegales en perseverance et en cou- 
rage, i) serait urgent, rien que pour satisfaire al'en- 
trainement des idees generates, de donneraFedu- 
eation un vehicule d'autorite puissante, afin que 
la sagesseTet ^experience puissent imposer leurs 
commandements a la deraisoh et a la mollesse qu j 
ne produisent que deeouragement et desordre. 

Cependant, en reclamant l'a u tori te en educa- 
tion dans Finteret meme des necessites mate- 
rielfes du siecle , qui ne iaissent ni repos ni treve 
a nos facultes, je suis loin de desirer une sou- 



DES FEMjJES. I 

mission aussi entiere que dans le passe; il ne faut 
pas croire que je reclame cette deference aux 
ordres superieurs de maniere a faire plier comme 
autrefois 1'intelligence devant toutes les idees 
imposees; je pense que cette influence doit se 
renfermer dans les limites des preceptes moraux. 
L'autorite ne saurait donner des lois a 1'intelli- 
gence ni arreter Tessor qui la fait graviter sans 
eesse vers Pinfini ; mais en s'adfessant a la raison, 
qui seconnait, qui juge la fragilite de iiotre 
nature et sent la necessite de poser des bornes a 
nos desirs, elle reglemente nos sentiments et nos 
passions, c'est elle qui etablit la justice et im- 
mortalise le devouement; et lorsque , mobile et 
passagere comme les mouvementsqu'elle s'efforce 
d'harmoniser, elle devient a son tour un obstacle, 
une chaine accablante qui gene les elans d'une 
vaste pensee , a peine la voit-on deperir et 
tomber qu'une autre autorite la remplace. 

II ne pent pas etre en mon pouvoir de poser les 
termes nouveaux dans lesquels l'autorite pourrait 
fixer les relations coordonnees des elements con- 
fus qui diligent le monde ; je ne voudrais etablir 
qu'une necessite pratique dans ('education gene- 
rale : c'est que, pour rcpondre aux vues d'in^truc- 
tion de la pluralite des families, ii faudrait rendre 
au professorat la pins grande partie du pouvoir 
6t de la consideration dont il jouissait autrefois; 
jc voudrais qu'il fifct reconfw aussi , dans Pedu> 



166 INDICATION 

cation materaelle, oil la mere se constilue institu- 
trice de sa fille, qu'on ne pent pretendre a aucnn 
succes, si, independammentde toute methode, on 
ne fonde pas un principe d'autorite ferme et im- 
muable qui donne l'impulsion a la volonte quand 
celle-ci sommeille ou devient retive. 

Bien avant que Pexperience vint desabuser 
les riants projets d'education que je formais pour 
mes filles, j'avais cru pouvoir ne rien ordonner 
qu'a leur raison et tout obtenir de leur tendresse; 
long-temps j'ai fait usage de ces suaves entretiens 
de mere, j'ai employe ces conseils insinuants, ces 
remontrances motivees qui sembleraient devoir 
adoucir et convaincre , mais bientot il fa!~ 
lut repudier ces moyens lenitifs et dilatoires 
pour me soumettre a la realite d'une pratique 
plus serieuse et plus eHicace. II est un age au- 
quel on ne peut s'adresser par la persuasion; 
et quoiqu'il soit vrai, comme je Pai dit plus 
haut, que Fesprit de crainte et d'obeissance soit 
grandement aflaibli dans la jeunesse , il reste 
encore entre les mains d'une mere des armes 
assez puissantes pour maitriser line volonte re- 
belle; Tenfant le plus indomptable ne saurait 
resisterlong temps a lapersistance d'un comman- 
dement inflexible , aux privations de plaisir qui 
1'affligent et a la main equitable et caressante 
quiTencourage des qu'il montre la plus legere in- 
tention de s'amender et de flechir*. 



DES FEAIMES. 16/ 

Aussi j'hesite presque a le dire, mais ce n'est 
pas toujours l'enfance qu'il faudrait gourmander 
et accuser d'indociliteet d'irreverence, le blame 
devrait sou vent retomber ailleurs ; les grands 
parents, les meres, nous toutes qui faisons de nos 
filles des fetiches adorees devant lesquelles nous 
nous inclinons suppliantes et craintives, merite- 
rions maintes fois d'etre morigenees plus severe- 
men t qu'elles. Si la longue frequentation des ele- 
ves de tout age , l'habitude d'observer leurs 
defauts et leurs qualites pouvaient donner quel- 
que poids anion jugement sur cette question, je 
vous dirais plus, qu'en desirantpour lajeunesse 
une direction severe, je m'appuie sur un fait que 
1'experience a pu montrer a d'autres ainsi qu'a 
moi : j'ai toujours vu, quelle que soitleur condi- 
tion, que les enfants qui ont puise dans le tres- 
jeune age des principes de soumission et de res- 
pect se montrent toutes sans exception non— 
seulement plus aimables avec leurs proches et 
pins gracieuses avec les etrangers, mais encore 
plus attentives et par consequent plus intelli- 
gentes et plus aptes a profiler de tous les genres 
d'etude auxquels on les voit s'adonner; elles 
sont en un mot les modeles de leurs compagnes, 
la consolation et la gloire de celles qui les din- 
gent. Ai-je besoin de dire que des resultats tout- 
a-fait opposes se presentent toujours lorsqu'iU 
vuit produils par des causes contraire^ 



168 tDLGlTlOS 

J'ai sou vent efrtendu repeter dans Ie cercle~ 
des meres ces paroles d'une tolerance insoucieuse, 
dictees par line tendresse excessive , qui selon 
moi va plus loin que l'imprudence :« A quol bon 
» tourmenter, dit-on, ces pauvres enfants de pri- 
j) vations, d'ordresimperieux, d'austeres devoirs? 
» laissons-les jouir de leurs meilleurs jours ; 1'age 
» des soucisetdesrevers, les heures de con train te 
v et d'esclavage, le temps de la douleur viendront 
» assez tot pour elles ; qu'elles goiitent au moins 
» ces instants de bonheur que rien n'aura trou- 
x> ble. » 

II faut bien re filter malgre soi de semblables 
objections ; bieri qu'elles ne soient pas donnees 
tout-a-fait au serieux, elles ont un air de bonho- 
mie quientraine tandis qu'elles servent a colorer 
une dangereuse faiblesse. C'estainsi qu'on entend 
encore faire ces reflexions etranges vis-a-vis des 
enfants que l'esprit d'independance et les gate- 
ries demesurees ont rendues insupportables a 
voir. « Ce n'est rien , vous dit-on , tout cela passe, 
» les caracteres changent avec 1'age, les defauts 
» de Penfanee n'exislent plus quand la raison 
» arrive. » 

En verite je n'ose plus justifier, par le triste 
cote des interets materiels et de la necessite tern- 
poraire, une doctrine aussi fondainentale que 
celle de l'autorite; je sais avec quelle legerete* 
quelle quietude derisoire, on traite main tenant 



DES FEMMES. 169 

les questions les plus graves. II est facile de re- 
connaitre, aux procedes bizarres usites dans 1'e- 
ducation par beauconp de families , la predomi- 
nance des satisfactions ego'istes et les aberrations 
du scepticisme actuel. Imprevoyants que vous 
etes , quoi ! vous voulez voiler a vos enfants les 
ecueils de la vie , leur laisser croire que le ciel 
est toujours etoile, les arbres toujours verts? 
quand les routes sont si souvent arides et mon- 
tueuses, lorsqu'au milieu du jour le souffle des 
tempetes vient tant de fois troubler l'eau du lac 
tranquille et lui ravir le sommeil de la nuit, 
vous voulez qu'elles ne soupconnent d'autres 
chemins que le sentier couvert de fleurs qui borde 
le ruisseau limpide? vous ne vous sentez pas la 
force d'opposer la moindre digue a leurs capri- 
cieux vouloirs! Mais vous ne voyez done pas que 
vous les bercez dans une illusion cruelle qui dis- 
paraitra des leur entree dans le monde : et com- 
ment seront - elles preparees a supporter les 
premiers coups qui viendront les assaillir? etes- 
vous surs qu'elles ne succomberont pas a la 
premiere epreuve ? 

Vous pensez aussi qu'il n'est besoin d'aucun 
etai, d'aucun secours pour dinger Tarbrisseau 
qui s'eleve; vous croyez qu'il sera temps encore 
de redresser sa tige quand elle aura pris sa 
courbure. Non non, des que le rocher, 1'autan 
furieux ou le torrent qui passe ont contourne 

i5 



170 Education 

Farbrequi'croit en liberie, e'en est fait; rien ne 
peut denouer sa taille tortueuse. 

Le plus grand mal qui puisse survenir de 
1'absence de soumission dans la jeunesse , e'est 
qu'elle se munit d'une secheresse et d'une pre 
somption dangereuses qui arretent Intelligence 
et corrompent le coeur : sans hierarchie, sans 
veneration ni condescendance, il ne peut y avoir 
apparence d'education. 

Eduquer, 1 e'est guider et conduire, et pour 
etre conduit ne faut-ii pas quon suive , qu'on 
obeisse? S'elever, n'est ce pas monteretgrandir, 
arriver au souverain empire de soi-meme en 
faisant plier les penchants inferieurs sous FauJ 
torite d'une raison supreme et d'nne idealite 
sainte ? 

Quoique les erreurs de la liberte et les ecarts 
du doute aient fait de plus grands ravages parmi 
les hommes, Faffaiblissement et Tinobservanc 
des preceptes d'obeissance et de devoirs qu 
puise au sein de l'education , ont deja porte de* 
fruits amers dans la vie morale des femmes. Oh 
si mes vceux pouvaient etre exauces et ma parol 
etre prise au serieux par un grand nombre d'en- 
tre elles, non point corame un sermon qui effraie 
une remontrance qui vient attrister , mais comm 
un avertissement salutaire, un conseil de soeu 
ou d'amie, je les supplierais d'eviter les seduc 
tions de Findependance presqu'autant dans 



or 



DES FEMMES. 171 

cercle des opinions ct des idees theoriques que 
dans la realite des actions hasardeuses elles- 
memes. 

Aujonrd'hui que toutes les limites sont renver 
sees, qu'aucune autorite n'est assez imposante 
pour inspirer la persuasion et la conliance, lors- 
qu'il n'existe ni loi ni point d'arret a placer 
devant l'abime, que chacun se fait son maitre ou 
son dieu, quitte le bien, haute le mal a sa guise, 
a quel pouvoir faut-il se vouer pour conjurer le 
fleau qui nous afflige? n'est-il pas opportun de 
le tarir a sa source en demandant a l'education 
une main plus ferme et des enseignements plus 
feconds pour epurer et conduire la generation 
naissante ? 

Le desordre est-il assez grand quand on voit la 
revoke et le dclirc cclater dans l'imagination a 
ce point que des bras faibles de femme , des 
mains caressantes de mere, qui ne devraient se 
mouvoir que pour soigner et benir les petits en- 
fantsque le Ciel leur envoie, s'arment d'une rage 
frenetique et se rougissent de leur sang! Quand 
Phorreur du suicide et la crainte d'en haut n'op- 
posent aucun frein au desespoir et a la fureur 
des plus faibles et des plus donees creatures, il ne 
resle plus qu'a s'incliner, crier grace et invoquer 
la voix toute-puissante qui commandc au volcan 
de s'eteindre et a la vague de s'arreter, 

Dans le temps ou Teducation tenait les enfant- 



172 Education 

sans cesse eloignes du foyer paternel , ou les 
habitudes et les relations a present si familie- 
res etaient glacees et despotiques d'une part , 
tremblantes et dissimulees de 1'autre ; alors que 
la jeunesse se tenait reverencieuse et muette, 
obligee de contenir ou de renfermer toute 
pensee , tout geste spontane en presence des 
persunnes d'experience et d'age; a cette epo- 
que ou la mere donnait encore sa main a bai- 
ser a sa fille avec une ceremonieuse gravite , on 
concoit qu'une sage reforme ait cherche a sub- 
stituer la sincerite affectueuse a ces dehors far- 
des qui trompaient la nature, et que, pour 
deraciner les abus d'un droit tyrannique tout- 
a-fait en desaccord avec les mceurs nouvelles, 
plus d'une these eloquente ait ete soutenue en 
faveur de la liberte excentrique centre une vo- 
lonte de fer qui repoussait toute expansion et 
entravait les mouvements de la vie progressive : 
mais a cette heure que nous sommes retombes 
dans un exces contraire, n'est-ce pas le devoir 
qu'il faudrait faire aimer, n'est-ce pas la predi- 
cation d'une autorite sainte et rajeunie ravivant 
l'esperance , qu'il serait important de repandre 
partout avec la chaleur la plus vive ? 

Le dogme sublime du devouement, la raison, la 
conscience, tout vient nous dire que 1'obeissance 
est une # des lois harmonieuses du monde, un prin- 
cipe d'ordre indispensable, une condescendance 



DES FEMViES. 173 

aux sacrees conventions que la societe s'impose. 

Je preche la soumission a mes filles, parce que 
je sens qu'a leur agecommander'est un penchant 
a l'orgueil, tandis qu'obeir est un acte de reso- 
lution vertueuse. Je crois que dans tout etat so- 
cial , l'homme ne pent avoir rien de libre que sa 
pensee; et encore faut-il qu'il apprenne dejbonne 
heure a la tenir esclave, pour ne laisser a ecbapper 
au dehors que les paroles approuvees par les con- 
venances : se maitriser toujours, supporter par- 
tout des obstacles et des chaines que nul effort 
ne peut briser, reconnaitre au-dessus de soi Pini- 
mensite, la providence mysterieuse , devant la- 
quelle il faut se soumettre et prier ; tels sont les 
avertissements , les preceptes que Peducation 
doit donner, les empreintes profondes qu'elle 
doit graver dans le cceur de la jeunesse, afin d'y 
laisser pour la vie des traces ineffacables qui la 
guident et l'affermissent. 

Je n'ignore pas qu'il n'y a rien de nouveau 
dans ces doctrines , et qu'il soit facile a l'i- 
magination inspiree, a l'intelligence en travail 
d'inventer des siecles de bonheur aux lois plus 
attrayantes; je sais meme que l'epoque sur ce 
point est en veine d'espoir , en quete de sys- 
teme , et que des esprits genereux , de fer- 
mes volontes s'epuisent a la recherche d'un 
probleme aussi vieux que le monde ; qu'en un 
mot Pereactuelle apparlient au doute, au vague 

i5. 



i74 Education 

et k la liberie. Mais qu'arrive-t-il pendant ce 
temps? c'est que lajeunesse, avide demotions , 
accessible aux theories gigantesques et brillan- 
tes, rejette du pied le present pour s'elancer 
dans l'avenir, et les heures s'ecoulent , et la vie 
reelle avec ses jours ternes et ses difficultes in- 
surmontables , est encore aujourd'hui ce qu'elle 
etait hier, et des instants si precieux pour Petude 
sont consumes en pure perte a deviser sur des 
reves. 

Ces dernieres reflexions ont plus de rapport 

qu'on ne le croit avec 1'education des filles ; 

on sait quelle est a present l'influence des jeu- 

nes gens sur les opinions du monde : partout 

la parole la plus eclatante et la plus sure d'elle- 

raeme leur est acquise; on fait cercle autour du 

jeune etourdi au langage facile et assure qui dis- 

cute avec chaleur, tranche sur tout, demolit tout 

et s'arrete triomphant en regardant avec dedain 

les ruines qu'il a faites. II va sans dire quenos pe- 

tites et nos grandes filles, auditeurs distraits , ne 

retiennent souvent de ces harangues reformistes 

que les propositions les plus etranges et les plus 

mal sonnantes. 

Je rappellerai en outre que la vie de famille, 
plus resserree, offrant par cela meme un contact 
plus direct avec les enfants , demanderait une 
reserve et une circonspection que peu d'inte- 
rieurs possedent. 



DES FEMMES. 175 

Les craintes et les deceptions qui accompa- 
gnent Pexistence, la raretedes liaisons durables e t 
des affections sinceres, font reporter en ce temps 
sur soi et sur les siens la confiante amitie qui ne 
trouve plus a s'epancher ailleurs. D'une part la 
societe de nos enfants est devenue un besoin 
pour nous, et de l'autre, ne voulant point nous 
imposer une gene continuelle en deguisant sans 
cesse nos paroles en leur presence, nous nous 
laissons aller a penser presque tout haut devant 
eux. Comment voulez-vous qu'ils apprennent 
a croire , quand ils voient que nous avons si pen 
de foi nous-memes? comment esperer qu'ils 
sachent respecter les personnes et les choses , 
quand si pres d'eux ils n'entendent proferer 
que mepris pour les hommes et indifference pour 
les principes ? 

II faut appartenir a Fenseignement pour sa- 
voir de quelle maniere les parents comprennent 
leurs devoirs : dans la plus grande partie des 
families, c'est la jeune fille qui decide elle- 
meme la direction qu'elle doit prendre, ce sont 
ses jugements, ses caprices qui sont consultes 
et suivis en depit de toute sage determina- 
tion souvent arretee d'avance. Que de fois j'ai 
vu Tinstitutrice qui n'avait pas su captiver son 
eleve par de serviles flatteries ou de faciles 
complaisances, etre repudiee par elle: Pour 
.rande eeneralite des parents . dans tout 



176 EDUCATION 

corjflit d'autorite, dans tout demele un peu 
grave ou il faudrait appuyer le pouvoir des mai- 
tresses, c'est presqne toujours le cote qui veut 
sevir qu'on taxe d'injustice; sans precaution, 
sans pitie ni respect pour une profession si pe- 
nible et si honorable , c'est devant ses enfants 
qu'on raille , qu'on blame ou qu'on brise l'au- 
torite d'une institutrice qui deplait ou qui ne 
tient pas ce qu'on esperait d'elle. Aucune con- 
sideration particuliere ne s'attache plus a cet 
etat; dans l'esprit du grand nombre, on ne con- 
serve aucune reconnaissance pour les services 
inappreciables qu'il rend; et comment les enfants 
apprendraient-ils a le placer en plus haute estime 
que beaucoup d'autres, lorsqu'on parle devant 
eux de salaire et d'argent, lorsqu'on leur laisse 
croire qu'en payant ceux qui les elevent on a 
tout acquitte envers eux, et qu'on les habitue 
enfin a changer aussi volontiers d'institutrice 
que de modiste ou de lingere ? 

L'enumeration des fautes et des griefs qui 
se commettent sur ce point serait bien longue 
et bien desolante; d'un autre cote on ne doit 
pas se dissimuler que Pautorite elle-meme a 
besoin de s'observer pour exercer sa haute 
mission avec toute la noblesse et tout le zele 
qu'elle exige. 

Plus les temps sont difficiles, plus on doit ap- 
porter d'ener^ie et de Constance pour les tra- 



DES FEMMES. 177 

verser sans faillir; ce n'est pas sur la force des 
reglements ni sur la valeur des instructions ecri- 
tes qu'il faut compter entierement, mais bien 
sur soi-meme, sur les remontrances persuasives 
appuyees par les actions les plus pures et les 
plus meritantes. II faut moins songer a etre obei 
par la menace et 1* punition, qu'a faire en sorte 
d'etre imitee par la veneration et l'amour. On 
doit comprendre que si l'education ne peut se 
passer d'autorite, il faut qu'elle en use avec 
une patience et une douceur inalterables. La 
directrice de grande maison surtout doit se gar. 
der de faire sentir sa puissance avec la fierte 
d'une chatelaine, ou la durete d'un chef qui ex- 
ploite une industrie : serviteurs , eleves et mai- 
tresses, doivent respecter en elle la superieure 
laborieuse et digue, aussitot prete a bien exe- 
cuter qu'a bien dire, accessible et bienveillante 
pour tous, oublieuse du mal, sans cesse encou- 
rageante; son inflexible equite ne doit jamais 
permettre qu'on puisse eluder ou censurer ses 
ordres; aux nobles qualites qu'on decouvre cha- 
que jour en elle, a son regard imperatif qui 
revele encore un cceur de mere, il faut que sans 
envie et sans crainte on puisse dire en la vovant : 
Voila l'autorite, voila Texemple. 

J'ai dit pour cette fois, chere Angelique; de- 
main , un autre jour, il faudra vous parler plus 
doctement encore. Je compte en ma prochaine 



178 ftDUCATION DES FEMMES. 

lettre aborder les methodes; tremblez pour moi, 
ma tres -bonne , certaines sciences m'effarou- 
chent toujours en les voyant de loin; lorsque 
j'aurai chevauche quelque temps autour de celle- 
ci , peut-etre serai- je plus altiere. Adieu done, 
amie, je vous quitte pour courir de ce pas visi- 
ter Condi 11 ac et Laromiguierem 



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